Healing Prejudice
by HarmonyEverlark
Summary: Post DH, epilogue disregarded. After centuries without development in children's healing potions, despite major advances in the Muggle world, suddenly a breakthrough has been made. Who is behind it all? Why is Harry suspicious? First attempt at writing.
1. Chapter 1

Harry knocked on Andromeda Tonks' front door. He waited for the usual shout of, "It's open, Harry", before opening the door and stepping over the threshold.

"Really, Harry, I don't know why you bother knocking. I've told you a thousand times, you are family!" Andromeda exclaimed, as she strode down the hall to greet him with a kiss on the cheek.

"I would never want to come in uninvited, Andy. I'd hate to interrupt anything or be a nuisance…"

"Nonsense. The wards give me plenty of notice that you're approaching. If I didn't want you to come in, I'd the lock the doors, wouldn't I?" she winked.

"So how's Teddy doing now? Is he feeling –"

"UNCLE HARRY!"

"Hello, Teddy. How are you?"

"I'b good, Uncle Harry. Are we go-id out to play dow?"

"Are you sure? You sound a little snotty"

"I'b FIDE!"

Harry looked doubtfully at Andromeda.

"Oh, he's much improved. The developments in potions recently are just amazing. There's nothing to completely get rid of the congestion, not yet, but there are things that ease it and his fever is completely under control now! A little fresh air wouldn't do him any harm, if you wouldn't mind, as long as he takes it easy. Just give him a dose of his potion at noon." She handed him a bottle. "It might be an idea to get some for your own cabinet especially as you are having Teddy over more and more. Tamell is a miracle-worker!"

"Tamell?"

"The maker of the potion"

"Right. OK, then. Come on, Teddy. Let's have us a little walk out, shall we?" He nodded to Andromeda. "See you later, Andy."

* * *

Harry stopped off in Diagon Alley on his way home. Andromeda was probably right, he mused. He was having Teddy over more and more these days. He _should_ really have a healing potions cabinet, for Teddy at the very least. Andy hadn't been impressed that he didn't have the basics even for himself. "Really, Harry," she had scolded him, "Given your track record, I'd have thought you would keep some healing potions in reserve. So you have to drag yourself out to an apothecary? Or, knowing you and your stubborn streak, you don't seek help at all." When he rather sheepishly admitted that any time he was hurt, or unwell, he went to Hermione, she'd shook her head. "Where would you be without that girl? At least _she_ has some common sense, although I'd expect nothing less from a Healer. And it's better than not asking for assistance when you need it."

Andy was right about that, too. He would be lost without Hermione. It had taken a particularly bad bout of flu to break his fierce need to be fine, at all times. He had been delirious. Hermione had come round, and upon realising the state he was in, immediately set to work to get him well again. She had cared for him, administering potions, feeding him soup and stroking his hair until he fell asleep. After he had recovered a little, Hermione had thoroughly chastised him for his refusal to seek help and made him swear – at wandpoint, no less – that he would come to her next time he was ill. He had seen the damage an angry Hermione could inflict with her wand, and so he had allowed that wall to come down, before she could demand an Unbreakable Vow. This gradually spilled over into his mental scars, and many times he sat with her in the early hours of the morning, unable to stop the tears from falling, wracked by the guilt and trauma of not only the war, but his childhood, allowing her to comfort him with a cup of tea, a handkerchief and unwavering support.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, he looked at the shelf of children's healing potions. Which was the one Andromeda had mentioned? Perhaps he should get some others, too.

Healer Helga's Cough and Cold Relief Balm. Professor Enn's Inflammation Reducer. Sue Doe's Skin Healing Salve. Parris E. Tamell's Pain and Fever Relieving Potion.

Tamell's, he thought. That was it. Hang on, _Parris E. Tamell?_ No way, he thought. It can't be what I think it is…

He grabbed the bottle from the shelf and looked at the label. _Parris E. Tamell's Potion has been created following extensive experimentation, starting from old apothecary records, to create potions designed especially for children's well-being. If you require further information, contact can be made through Owl Post Box 197, Diagon Alley._ He frowned, putting the bottle in his basket. No, he told himself, I'm being ridiculous. It's just a coincidence. He picked up a few of the other bottles, paid for them and apparated home.

Later, after dinner, Harry fixed a little wooden cupboard to the bathroom wall, and filled it with his stock of potions. As he picked up the bottle of Enn's Inflammation Reducer, he caught sight of the blurb and read the first line: _I be Prof. Enn._ Harry stopped short. Surely this couldn't be coincidence. He checked for a contact address, only to find OP Box 197 again. He picked up the other potions and salves, on every one seeing OP Box 197. Abandoning his cabinet for the moment, he grabbed his muggle jacket and ran down the muggle pharmacy around the corner.

* * *

Casting a Notice-Me-Not charm over himself, he slipped into the Owl Post Office at the stroke of 9am. He located the Owl Post Boxes and studied them on the intently until he found number 197. Settling himself in the corner of the Owl Post Office, he recast the Notice-Me-Not and waited, his eyes firmly on the box.

Several hours passed, with no one approaching 197. He slipped out when they closed at lunchtime, but returned as soon as they reopened. The Office would shortly be closing for the day. Harry was definitely beginning to feel that this was a stupid plan, and that he should have asked Hermione to help him instead, Merlin knows he was not the brains of the "Golden Trio", when a small cloaked figure entered and quietly approached the box in question, drawing out a key. It wasn't until the figure turned, scrolls in hand that he caught sight of a very familiar face, chewing her bottom lip as she glanced about the room as if to check for anyone watching. Harry's mouth flapped open. His brain caught up with his eyes a few seconds later and, still under the charm, he caught the figure by the arm as she passed him towards the door.

" _Hermione!"_ he hissed. " _You?_ You're the one…behind all of them?"

Hermione jumped, startled, and gaped at Harry. One look in his eyes told her he suspected what she was up to. "Erm…Well, yes, but…Look, I can explain" she said. She glanced around the room. "Can we move this conversation to somewhere a little more private?"

Harry regarded her with narrowed eyes, before nodding and heading out of the Owl Post Office door. He threw a questioning glance at Hermione, who nodded and took his hand, before he apparated them both to the living room of his London flat. Harry flung his cloak over the back of the sofa and walked to the kitchen. He made two mugs of tea, adding a generous spoon of sugar to his own, before returning to living room, where Hermione stood twisting her hands in a slightly guilty manner.

Harry placed Hermione's mug on the coffee table, smiling inwardly as Hermione immediately picked it up to put a coaster underneath, and sat on the sofa, looking at her expectantly. Hermione sat in the armchair and smoothed her skirt, but said nothing.

"Well, go on then" he prompted.

"Look, I'm sorry I never told you any of this, but I couldn't risk any of it becoming public knowledge, and you know if Ron ever caught wind of it the whole world wouldn't be too far behind, and that could end my Healing career, it's just too important to let silly prejudices get in the way, not that the traditional magicals would see it that way…"

Although he didn't want to admit it, he could see why she would keep something that could threaten her career from Ron. After the war, they had agreed between themselves not to mention the Horcruxes, hoping that the lack of knowledge about them, coupled with the fact that they believed they had collected and destroyed all the written information about them, would mean that they would never be used again. Unfortunately, they had not counted on Ron's inferiority complex. While the Wizarding World fawned over Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived and the man-who-triumphed, Ron's and Hermione's parts in the victory were largely glossed over by the press. Though they stood together in interviews and press photographs, and despite Harry's efforts to balance the story, most of the attention focussed on Harry.

Hermione did not care for seeing her name in the papers, always wanting to earn respect through merit and not fame, and sympathised with Harry over the constant stares and autograph requests. Ron, conversely, felt jealousy rear its head again, as it had during their Hogwarts career and the hunt. In the months that followed the war, Ron had gradually leaked the fact of their existence and his part in destroying them to far too many people, often using his boasting to win the attentions of attractive witches in bars as Harry and Hermione had returned to Hogwarts, leaving him at the Burrow. Though he was not able to divulge the mechanics of the process, the existence of the Horcrux was becoming common knowledge.

This led to the most serious fight the trio had ever had, and they nearly parted ways for good. Again, Ron fumed over Hermione betraying him by standing with Harry, extinguishing any hope Hermione had of rekindling their romance once they could be together again. Although now, they had forgiven him and agreed to be friends once more, Harry could not forget, and their friendship had never quite recovered the ease of their earlier years. Harry drew himself back to the present and raised a hand to Hermione.

"Hermione, stop babbling. Start from the beginning. First of all, is this", he pulled a bottle of the Parris E. Tamell potion from his discarded cloak pocket and held it up, "what I think it is?"

"I…Yes, I imagine it is."

"You're selling muggle paracetamol? To magicals?"

"Not exactly"

"Really? Because it looks exactly like that to me."

"I am marketing it, yes, but it's for the sake of the children"

"What do you mean?"

"Harry, the magical world separated from the muggle world centuries ago. And while certain advances, such as the wireless, photography, and motor vehicles, have been picked up to some extent, the magical world is generally completely ignorant of the majority of scientific and technological advances."

"So?"

"Including advances in medicine. When the worlds separated, non-magical medicine was largely guesswork, superstition, and really pretty risky."

"OK, but isn't magical medicine better anyway? I mean, just of the top of my head, the Episkey spell, blood replenishing potions, numbing charms…even Skele-Grow" he added with a shudder.

"Well, yes, in many ways magical medicine has the edge. But there are areas where muggle medicine is just as good, if not superior."

"Which areas?"

"Surgery, for one. Magicals don't do surgery. And they believe the non-magical version is butchery, whereas in reality although all surgery does have risks, many surgeries are comparatively safe, routine procedures, completed under anaesthetic in sterile conditions. I can't prove it would have worked, but perhaps if Professor Dumbledore had had his hand amputated, it might have stopped the curse from spreading entirely."

"Mad-Eye Moody-"

"-lost his leg in battle. It wasn't amputated. They couldn't reattach it so they magically cauterised his thigh. There's no magical equivalent of a number of types of scan, or biopsies, so if you were to develop, say a cancerous tumour, the magical world would be unable to diagnose or treat it.

"Antibiotics, also, are not used in the magical world. Admittedly, cleaning spells used on wounds are effective enough to generally prevent them from becoming infected, and magicals are quite resistant to a number of non-magical illnesses as our magic helps our bodies to fight infections naturally…"

"I still don't get what this has to do with children"

"Do you know why magical education doesn't start until age 11?"

"Um…no" replied Harry, momentarily flummoxed by the change in topic. "I've never really thought about it, to be honest."

"It's because that is the age by which almost all magical children's magic has manifested and stabilised, although it most commonly happens somewhere between the ages of 7 and 10. Until a child's magic is stable, they can't really learn to control it. And while a child's magic is unstable, they cannot be treated with magical medicine, nor can it be relied upon to help the child resist non magical illness."

Harry frowned. "That can't be true. I know for a fact Andromeda healed Teddy's arm with magic when he fell out of that tree."

"That's different. Healing spells can be used on anyone, magical or not, because the magic comes from the caster, not the recipient. I'm talking about medicinal potions. Potions and magical salves use the recipient's magic to work, so they cannot be safely used on muggles, squibs, or those with unstable magic. Depending on the potion, it can have disastrous effects. It's not worth risking a child's life like that.

"As a result, many magical babies and young children who become ill end up much worse because magicals will not look into _muggle_ methods to treat them. Some even die. The infant mortality rate among magicals used to be lower than that of the non-magical population, but since the worlds separated, it has remained almost the same, whereas the non-magical rate has dropped significantly. They had no methods of pain relief, fever reduction, no antibiotics, nothing."

"Until now."

"Until now. When I trained to be a Healer, I thought I would be able to help people. When I found out they had no way of treating or relieving what are relatively minor ailments in the non-magical world, I was shocked. I tried to convince others at St Mungo's to try even basic non-magical medicines, but they were all horrified. I mean, you remember Mrs Weasley's reaction to stitches, don't you?"

"Of course."

"Well, it was much worse than that. They just don't trust anything non-magical, and refuse to even study it, just to see if it would merit a trial. It's ridiculous, this wilful ignorance at the expense of their children's health…"

Hermione trailed off for a moment, her head in her hands, before looking up at Harry with an expression that Harry had previously associated with her determined efforts with SPEW. "I knew I had to do something."

"But, Hermione, surely you're breaking the law, selling someone else's products under a different name?"

"I'm not."

"Sorry?"

"I'm not selling other people's products. I've been having them manufactured myself."

" _What?_ How?"

"I looked into non-magical medicine manufacturing. I've had a little help, mainly from people who are somewhat disenchanted with the magical world. Some people who are Squibs, and one who is a werewolf. I picked a couple of medicines to start with – common ones, for relatively minor stuff. The balm first, then the salve, before the _potions._ Of course, I had to name them appropriately for the Wizarding World." She smiled. "I had a little fun with them…"

"Surely others will have noticed the names, Hermione…I mean Parris E. Tamell? Even I got that. The Prof. Enn one I didn't get straight away, but then I saw the blurb…At least the salve and the balm are less obvious. What about the other muggle-borns?"

"Well, the balm wasn't named after anything in particular, I couldn't think of a good play on vapour rub. Did you not get the salve? Sue Doe?"

"Eh?"

"Sudocrem"

"Oh. Right. But seriously, surely someone else will notice the names?"

"Well, only you, so far as I know. Magical people can be surprisingly unobservant. Even those with non-magical background tend to get sucked in and forget about any other way of life. Those that do involve themselves in the non-magical side tend to stay out of the magical. The cross over is limited, you see."

Hermione looked almost apologetic. Harry sighed. "But why not use your own name? Get some recognition for your work?"

"Too risky. I'd been pushing so hard to get St Mungo's to try paracetamol and the like – they knew I wasn't trying to come up with my own magical versions."

"Don't you have to list the ingredients anywhere? Like the strength of the medicine or something?"

"Not in the magical world. Ever wondered why Sleekeasy owns the market on haircare potions? The generic recipes for potions are often widely available – in textbooks for example – but people sell modified recipes as well. Potions masters don't want to give away all their secrets, and so to keep their skills or products in demand they keep their recipes a secret and charge a premium. I do put very stark warnings on the bottles regarding dosages though."

Harry looked at Hermione in disbelief. "I just…I don't get how you've managed to set this whole thing up, with no one any the wiser. What are you going to do next? Will you go into it full time?"

"Oh, no. I've been selling pretty much to break even with costs. I have enough money from my work. I've been donating the profits to the War Orphans' Fund. Anonymously, of course. The goblins have been pretty helpful. Respect goes a long way with them. That, and they're helping to pull the wool over the eyes of wizards, I suppose…"

She sighed. "I admit, now, it probably wasn't the best plan, because I don't know where to go from here – I want to expand to antibiotics and the like, but we would need to use non-magical diagnostics, and I can't figure out how to get people to accept that.

"If the traditional magicals realised they were using _muggle_ medicines, they'd all go spare, insist either that they didn't work or the muggle-borns were trying to poison them or something. And then we are back to square one and the children are unnecessarily at risk."

She ran her hands through her unruly hair, before sinking to the floor and dropping her head on the coffee table.

Harry looked at Hermione, askance. For all the time Hermione spent comforting him in his times of need, he could only really remember doing the same once: after their last falling out with Ron. He couldn't say he provided her with much comfort on her many spats with the youngest Weasley male whilst at Hogwarts– something he felt rather ashamed of in hindsight. He placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Couldn't you just…arrange a leak of some sort? You know, once everyone's happy these things work, it wouldn't matter, they'd know they weren't being poisoned or anything" he offered. Hermione didn't move for a few moments. He began to stroke her hair, pulling the curls gently away from her face.

"Oh Harry," she said, her eyes shining with the beginnings of tears. "I wish that was true. Sometimes, it feels like everything we achieved in the war was for nothing."

"Mione, you don't mean that…" he started.

"No, you're right. I don't really mean that. I mean, things are much, much better now than they were. It's just, there's still such a prejudice against the non-magical world, and non-human magical beings…I know change takes time, and it's only been a few years…" Her breath hitched and the tears began to fall. "I was just so impatient and I've got myself in a mess that could ruin my career, and worsen the prejudices I was trying to right."

"Oh Mione," he sighed. "come here." He opened his arms and she buried her head against his chest. "We'll think of something. The sorting hat definitely put you in the right place though – charging ahead selflessly!"

Hermione managed a watery smile, before snuggling back to his chest. He dropped a kiss on her head and held her tightly, until the warmth and steady sound of the other's heart beat lulled them both to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: Changed the rating to T just in case. Also, story may feature some H/Hr. Putting a bit of background about relationships post-DH in this one to help with interactions with other characters, more about the Hermione's secret medicine business soon. Apologies if any products mentioned shouldn't be available in HP timeline.

Two things to note: 1. This story is based on the idea that had been bouncing around my head about whether potions could be used on muggles. I decided not – I think this is something I've read in other fanfics too. I would therefore conclude that they couldn't be used on squibs, either – and as they don't know if a child is magical or not until after they've shown accidental magic (based on Neville's childhood) it also wouldn't be safe for children. It went from there.

2\. I know it's generally accepted that muggle tech, electricity etc. doesn't work at Hogwarts due to the amount of magic around it. I'm assuming that it must work around small amounts of magic, as Muggle born children would have grown up using it.

And on with the story…

* * *

Harry awoke to find that Hermione had been replaced by the large crocheted blanket Mrs Weasley – horrified at the fact that Harry did not have a fireplace _("but where will you light your fires, Harry?")_ – had knitted for him when he moved into his flat. Frowning, he assumed Hermione must be in the bathroom. Judging by the grey light of the room, he guessed it was early morning. He sat up, running his hand through his untameable hair, before getting up and walking to the kitchen, stretching and yawning as he went. The large kitchen clock read ten to five. He groaned; he was pretty sure he wouldn't get back to sleep now. As the fog of sleep began to lift, he realised that Hermione was nowhere to be seen. He could see the empty bathroom through the open door, and he doubted she would be in his bedroom alone; on the occasions when she crashed at his flat, she generally slept where Harry did, much like they did on the Horcrux Hunt after Ron left.

Still, he wandered down to his room to check, calling her name softly. No, the bed was in the exact unmade state as he had left it the previous morning. Though there was nowhere else in the flat for her to be, he still called her name as he made his way back to the kitchen. No response. Although the war was over now, Harry's mind still had a tendency to jump to the worst case scenario, and Hermione's disappearing was sparking his anxiety. Trying to keep his rising panic under control, he was moving towards the phone – feeling immensely thankful Hermione had persuaded him to get one installed – when a folded note, disturbed by his fast pace, no doubt, fluttered down from the breakfast bar. Feeling a sense of relief, he snatched the note up and unfolded it.

 _Harry, –_ it read in Hermione's neat cursive – _Don't panic, I am fine. Sorry for leaving without saying goodbye, but I have an early shift at St Mungo's and you look so peaceful, I can't bear to wake you. Merlin knows you don't get enough sleep as it is. I finish at 6:30 this evening. If you can, come to my flat for supper around 7?_

 _About last night – I am so sorry you have been dragged into this. If you don't want to be involved, and I wouldn't blame you, I can Obliviate it from your memory._

 _Love, H x_

Harry felt his heart rate subside, feeling somewhat foolish. He could picture Hermione shaking her head, making sure to start her note with reassurance. He re-read the last line, frowning. He thought he'd shown he was supportive of this last night. Well, he thought, just 13 hours to kill until _he_ could return the favour, and give Hermione the reassurance she so clearly needed.

* * *

Harry emerged from the shower after his morning jog, feeling much revived. He had taken to daily exercise to build up his strength when he had commenced his Auror training, and it was one of the few things he had continued when, much to everyone's astonishment, he resigned just weeks after completing the training programme. He found himself powerless to stop flashbacks from the war from resurfacing, seeing the faces of lost friends, rendering him completely unable to continue with missions, and was plagued with nightmares each night. The Head Auror had been surprisingly sympathetic when he had stood, pale and shaking, in her office and gave notice after he froze when attending a sabotaged potions lab. Though he would not tell her his real reasons, the kindly look she gave him before assigning him to work his notice period doing parchment-work made him feel she knew more than she let on.

Of course, the Daily Prophet was quick to speculate on the reasons – old injury, perhaps, or a dislike of the current Head, a continuing distrust of the Ministry – before settling on his being the Leader of the Golden Trio and his stubborn disregard for the rules making him unsuitable for a post in which he was not in command.

On the advice of the Head Auror, he had met with a Mind-Healer. When he had steadfastly refused to discuss the things that were bothering him, insisting it was nothing he could not handle himself, the Mind-Healer suggested calming draughts and Dreamless Sleep potion, to help him manage, which Harry rejected.

It had been Hermione, during the early hours of the morning some weeks later, who had suggested exercise as a coping strategy. That had been the first time he had really broken down in front of Hermione; having apparated to her flat, sodden from walking in the rain, the Sunday after he had left the Auror Corps, he spilled the whole story out. Hermione had been shocked that he hadn't said something before then, but drew him into her arms and let him pour everything out. The next evening he returned to his flat from a trip to the supermarket to find several books regarding anxiety and cognitive behavioural therapy on the coffee table. According to the note Hermione had left, though she felt he would benefit from seeing a psychiatrist of some kind, she understood his reluctance and the difficulties it would present discussing the things that happened with a muggle, and felt that the books might be the next best thing. She signed the note urging him to speak to her about it whenever he felt the need.

And so, since then, daily exercise was his routine. Flicking the kettle on as he assembled his breakfast, towel slung over one shoulder, he noticed the answerphone light blinking on his phone. Once he'd set himself up with a bacon sandwich and a cup of tea, he hit the play button. Ginny's voice filled the kitchen.

"- message after the beep, Dean, what does that mean?" A deeper voice murmured in the background. "No, it's gone quiet now." More murmuring. "So the machine will tell him what I say later?" What sounded like an exasperated " _Yes!"_ "PLEASE – GIVE – THIS – MESSAGE – TO – HARRY – POTTER! THIS – IS – GINNY – WEASLEY! PLEASE – CAN – YOU – TELEPHONE – CALL – ME – WHEN – YOU – HEAR – THIS – CALL…I wasn't shouting, Dean. I don't know how well the machine understands, do I? It hasn't said anything. That's normal? Now how do you stop it?" There was a clatter, then Ginny's voice continued, fainter now. "You just said put it down! Does it matter where? You do it, then! Why he couldn't just have a firepla-"

Harry couldn't help but smile. Ginny may have mastered the idea of speaking on the phone, but actually using the phone, and particularly the answering machine, baffled her. Dean Thomas, who seemed to be becoming a permanent fixture in her life, had been trying to teach her more about muggle technology, but as bright as Ginny was it just didn't seem to be going in very quickly. That said, she was better than Ron, who had Reducto-d his phone in a fit of temper when neither shouting Hermione's name at the phone nor dialling the numbers with letters corresponding to Hermione's name had not put him through to Hermione. He refused to get a replacement, and didn't speak to them for a week when they refused to get fireplaces built into their flats so he could call them on the Floo.

Ginny was attempting to persevere with it, though, unlike most of the British magical society. Only a handful of magicals outside of the younger muggle borns were really using muggle technology. Astonishingly, Luna Lovegood had taken to it like a duck to water. She'd even set up an email newsletter, The Roaming Snorcack, which posted updates on Quibbler articles between editions – although to Harry's knowledge, aside from himself, only Dennis Creevey and Hermione were actually on her mailing list; he suspected the former had something of a crush on Luna and the latter was more to encourage Luna's use of technology, as she had been the one to show it to Luna in the first place.

Harry scooped up the phone and dialled Ginny's number.

"Hello?" said a male voice.

"Dean, it's Harry."

"Oh, hi Harry, all right mate? How's it going?"

"Not bad, Dean, not bad. Yourself?"

"All good with me pal. Did you see the new poster designs?" Dean worked with the Holyhead Harpies, designing promotional material and merchandise. His knack for Quidditch banners when they were at Hogwarts had flourished into a real talent, and his designs were really taking off.

"No, haven't seen them yet. I'll have to make a stop in Quality Quidditch Supplies."

"You'll have to be quick about it! The big boss called me in on Friday, apparently selling out faster than Chocolate Frogs when your card was released!" he said in a teasing tone.

"Well done mate, that's great news. Is Ginny around? I just got her message."

"Yep. Two secs, I'll pass you over. Gin! Harry's on the phone."

"Harry! The machine gave you my message then? I wasn't sure it understood. It never answers me."

Harry suppressed a chuckle, not really wanting to get into the whole answering machine debate again. "Yes, I was out for my morning run. What can I do for you?"

"Mum wanted me to ask if you were coming to Sunday dinner tomorrow. Actually I think what she meant was to tell you that it's Sunday tomorrow, and you _are_ coming to dinner, but for the sake of appearances let's both pretend it's a request."

"Yes, I hadn't forgotten. I'll be there."

"Do you know if Hermione's coming? The machine answered her phone too, did you get that message?"

"No, it'll be on Hermione's machine – I only hear messages on my machine. She's at work today, but I'm seeing her later anyway. I'll check – she might be working though, usually she does both days if she works weekends."

"Well, I think it was a genuine "ask her" request for Hermione. Mum knows she works a lot. You, on the other hand, have no such excuse, you layabout" she said, though her softly teasing tone took the sting out of the remark. "So you get summons rather than invitations. So where are you taking our Hermione tonight? A moving picture? Or just dinner?"

"I'm not taking her anywhere. I'm going to hers when her shift finishes."

"Harry, Harry, Harry. You're not letting her cook you food when she's been at work all day. You won't get anywhere with that attitude. We women like to be…what was that muggle phrase? Dined up and wined up."

"Wined and dined?"

"That's what I said. A little romance, Harry, that's all you need. For example, just the other night Dean waited around til the end of training, surprised me coming out of the changing rooms with a bunch of flowers and whisked me off to that new restaurant in Diagon Alley – and let me tell you, when we got in I gave him such a –"

"NO! Ginny, stop there. I DO NOT want to hear the end of that sentence" Harry shuddered. He may have been Ginny's boyfriend once upon a time, but since then they had realised their love was strictly platonic. Their attempts at establishing a more _intimate_ relationship when they returned to Hogwarts following the war had proved it – it felt wrong. He was immensely thankful that Ginny felt the same, and over the next few years their friendship grew stronger. However, he had no desire to hear about her sex life – she was too much like a sister to him now. Her relationship with Dean had developed again during the time they were at Hogwarts together, though they didn't become romantically involved until after they had graduated.

"I was going to say a big kiss and cuddle to say thank you for making me feel so loved. Get your mind out of the gutter, Potter." He could practically see her sticking her tongue out at him. "What I mean is, we like to feel loved, appreciated…you'll never move the relationship on if you don't start showing her some romance."

"Ginny, Hermione and me…we're friends, we're not dating. She doesn't like me that way. I mean, we. We don't like each other that way."

"Whatever you say, Harry. We all see it! Apart from Ron, maybe, but he doesn't count."

"No, really!"

"Have it your way, Harry. But when someone else comes in and sweeps her off her feet – well, don't say I didn't warn you."

"What do you mean? Is someone going to ask her out? Who? No, she wouldn't do that to – I mean, erm, do that without telling me. Anyway, her work is her priority…"

"Take a calming draught, Harry. No one's asking her out. That I know of, anyway. Although come to mention it, she has seemed awfully busy of late. But if you don't, someday someone else will pluck up the courage despite your intimidating presence."

"Wha-"

"Anyway, got to go, meeting the team for lunch and shopping…See you tomorrow, Harry. It'll be on the table at two. Bye!"

"Yes, at two. See you-"

There was a crash, and Dean's voice filter through. "No, Gin, you've left it off the hook again, remember what I said about – Gin?" A door slammed. "Never mind…You still there, Harry? Gin hasn't quite mastered the art of ending a phone call yet"

"Yes, I'm here. See you tomorrow, Dean?"

"Yep. And for what it's worth – she's right, you know. It's time to start putting the moves on Hermione. She's hot. AND an Order of Merlin First Class. The only reason she hasn't been snapped up is most blokes are afraid of you. I mean, if I hadn't fallen for Ginny -"

"BYE, Dean." Harry slammed the phone down, feeling very irritated. Bloody hell, he thought. Of course he thought Hermione was the most amazing woman he had ever met, who he turned to, the one who helped him through the bad times and loved him, flaws and all, and the thought of her dating someone made him want to rip the bloke in question to pieces, but it didn't mean he was in love with her. Did it?

* * *

Harry decided to put the conversation with Ginny and Dean to the back of his mind, and instead focussed on cleaning his flat. He liked to do it the muggle way, much to the confusion of most of his friends. He also had a meeting with Flintaxe, the goblin in charge of his accounts, over a few investments they were interested in making on his behalf. He had taken a much more active role in his finances since leaving the Aurors, as he had so much time on his hands. Before he knew it, he was outside Hermione's flat with a bag of Chinese takeaway in one hand and a bottle of Hermione's favourite wine in the other. Which had nothing to do with Ginny's comments. At all. It was out of politeness and because he knew Hermione would have had a busy day.

He rang the doorbell at dead on 7 o'clock. Hermione bustled down the hall to the door, still towelling her hair as she went. "Hi Harry, come in, I'll just chuck this towel in the wash basket…Ooh, is that Chinese?" Hermione face lit up, eyes on the bag of food. "Gimme! I'm ravenous, haven't had chance for much more than a few cups of tea today…" She whisked the bag out of his hands and was heading towards the kitchen to dish up before he'd even crossed the threshold. He followed her in and sat at the dining table.

"Did you get a message from Ginny?"

"About Sunday lunch? Yes, I already called her back. Someday she'll get her head round the answering machine. She said she'd spoken to you. Actually I am able to go this time – I only picked up today's shift as a favour to Sue, so I'm not in tomorrow." She placed two plates of food on the table, then put the bag of prawn crackers between them.

He took a prawn cracker. "Oh. Good. Molly worries about you working yourself into the ground. No amount of assurance from the rest of us stops her from worrying. She won't be happy until she's seen you for herself and told you how thin you're looking and fed you enough to keep you going for a week. Although, if today is anything to go by, you _need_ feeding up. Come on, Hermione, you know you can't do your best work on an empty stomach. You have to take time to eat, no matter how busy you are."

Hermione tried to give him a disdainful look, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the huge mouthful of chow mein she had just taken.

"Enough. I'm eating now."

After a few minutes of frantic mouthfuls, Hermione slowed her pace, then suddenly laid her fork down. She took a gulp of the wine Harry had poured for them and gave Harry an anxious look.

"Harry, about last night…"

"Hermione, if there's a worse way to start a sentence to a bloke than with 'about last night', I'm yet to hear it," Harry said, smirking at her.

"I'm being serious, Harry."

"Shall I be Remus, then?" he winked. He liked to think the Marauders in question would have enjoyed that joke.

"Harry!" she groaned. "Please, just let me apologise."

"You've nothing to apologise for, Mione. I don't know where you got the idea that I wouldn't support you with this."

"You seemed so taken aback…"

"Well, I wasn't expecting my deductions of it being some kind of conspiracy to actually be true! I was half waiting to be told I was a paranoid fool. Look, it was a bit of a shock, especially knowing you were behind it but I knew nothing about it!"

Hermione's face fell slightly. "It was just so important that it didn't get out-"

"I know, Mione, I'm not annoyed or anything, I know why it needed to be a secret. I just wish you could have confided in me earlier and saved yourself some stress."

"I'm sorry, Harry. I really am. And as I said in my note-"

"-I could be Obliviated if I wanted? Mione, this stuff is important. Maybe you charged in a bit too fast, but it was with the best intentions. I want to help you. Two heads are better than one? Even if the second head is mine." He grinned, Hermione's lips quirked up slightly, then he took on a more serious expression. "I felt terrible when I realised you thought I wouldn't want to be involved. Am I really that unsupportive? How many hare-brained schemes have I come up with, that you supported me in regardless? Even the times when you _knew_ I was wrong, and I wouldn't listen, you still stuck by me. This is something big, Mione. Something worthwhile. And you _are_ in the right on this, even if the rest of the Magical Britain disagrees."

"Oh Harry, it's not that I thought you weren't supportive. It's just, you didn't ask to be involved. You stumbled upon the truth. I could get into big trouble for this, but it was _my_ risk to take…and now you are associated with it…I didn't want you caught up against your will and potentially ending up punished for something you had no control over."

"Well, consider me involved with informed consent." Harry said with a grin.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: Thank you for your reviews. It's good to know some people are enjoying the story. I hope I can keep it going – it's harder than I thought trying to get the pictures in my head to make sense in words!

* * *

Once they had finished their food, Harry and Hermione retired to Hermione's living room with their glasses of wine.

"So, Mione," said Harry, looking at her intently. "What's next? Are you making anything else yet?"

"Well, as it happens, I'm just about to launch a new product," replied Hermione.

"What is it?"

"A multi-vitamin supplement. I'm calling it Vitality Serum."

"Vitamins? Why?"

"Harry, come on, you experienced the food at Hogwarts, just as I did."

Baffled, he answered, "Yes, what was wrong with it?"

"Do you recall any salad? Any light options? It was all stodge"

"Hermione, I'm a bloke. We don't do salad. Plus, if I needed anything after my time with the Dursleys, it was stodge. Hogwarts was my chance to fill up on some much needed stodge."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Harry, there's nothing unmanly about salad."

Harry raised an eyebrow, arms folded across his chest. "Your point regarding the lack of salad?"

"Well, nutritional science is not something that's been studied in the magical world. Not in Britain, anyway. I mean, in some ways the food is healthier because it's freshly prepared, largely unprocessed…" She cast a slightly guilty glance towards the kitchen, where the remnants of their takeaway sat, then grinned at him sheepishly. "But it's very 'meat and two veg'. Very heavy on the fats and salt, vegetables boiled to within an inch of their lives...and don't get me started on the levels of sugar! I mean, I know being magical burns energy, so we do need a few more calories than non-magicals but – "

"Hermione, muggles survived for centuries without nutritional science. Did it do them any harm?"

"But the knowledge is there now. Why not use it? At least we can help prevent vitamin deficiency. Although, if there was a way to get the magical world exercising, it'd do them a world of good. No Physical Education at Hogwarts, no sports beyond quidditch, and using magic for every little thing! If it weren't for all those stairs I would have been the size of a house! How many adult magicals do you know that walk any distance? It's all apparition, Portkeys and Floo. And they say non-magical people are lazy with all the labour saving devices now…"

Harry had decided to let it go. Hermione was the driving force behind this anyway, and he trusted her judgement. "So, it's ready to go then, this serum?"

"Pretty much. Celeste's estimate for the initial batch's completion is this Friday, so they should be on the shelves on Monday."

"Who's Celeste?"

"Celeste Bleddyn. I doubt you'd know her. She was the founding member of LUNES…you know, the Lycanthropes' Union for those in Need of Employment and Support."

"The group that does the OWL and NEWT courses and voluntary stuff?" Hermione nodded. "What does she have to do with anything?"

"Well, I met her just after the war. There was even more distrust for werewolves after so many worked with Voldemort, and she'd heard all about me and S.P.E.W. from a relative who'd been at Hogwarts. I…well, I kind of used my name to raise the group's profile. You know, mentioned to a number of people how I approved of such a network, got photographed with her a few times. I'm not proud of using our fame like that, but it did get the job done. You'll remember the St Mungo's Wolfsbane programme coming in?"

Harry nodded. Werewolves were now able to join a register at St Mungo's to receive free Wolfsbane potion each month at full moon. If he recalled correctly, LUNES had set up special safehouses for their transformations to take place.

"I put my weight behind the campaign to get it started. But before it was approved, I brewed Celeste the Wolfsbane potion each month, enough for her and some other members of LUNES, if they came to her for it. I also helped her get a job in the non-magical world and enrolled her onto some non-magical education courses. She wants to be a geneticist, and hopefully come up with a more permanent solution to lycanthropy. She's always said if there was anything she could do for me, I only had to say the word. She now works as a lab technician while studying part time, so…"

"Ah. So she's your contact in the medicine business."

"Not quite. But through her work she does know some people in the drugs industry, some of whom just so happen to be squibs."

"Bloody hell. It's like there's a whole underground network going on." Harry grinned. " _Please_ tell me you have codenames?"

Hermione blushed. "Don't be ridiculous!"

"You do, don't you? Go on, tell me!"

"No! We do _not_ use code names."

"Hermione, you're redder than the Hogwarts Express."

"I am not! Speaking of non-magical education, how are you doing with yours?"

Harry had, not so long ago, decided to get some muggle qualifications. It seemed like the only way he could get a job with any hope of anonymity. Hermione had been more than happy to help. Harry had been surprised – though, thinking about it, he didn't know _why_ it would surprise him – to learn that Hermione had actually completed her muggle schooling right up to her A-Levels, through correspondence courses during the school holidays, and after the war. When he asked why she'd never told him, she blushed and said _"I didn't know how. Can you imagine telling Ron that I'd signed up for extra schoolwork? I'd never have heard the end of it. I thought you'd tease me."_ That had made him feel a little shamefaced, especially as there was a hint of truth there. He was almost finished with his GCSEs now, and his exams were not far off.

"Subtle change of subject there. Fine, I'll let it go. For now." He stuck his tongue out at her. "But don't think I won't want more details soon. To answer your question, I think I'm doing OK. Last units now. I've been having a bit of difficulty with the maths, though."

"Which part particularly?"

"Algebra."

"Do you want me to go through anything with you?"

"No, it's all right. I think I've got it – I've got to submit my completed exercises tomorrow anyway. Just need to look them over really. Plus you won't be there when I take the exam."

"Fair enough. That reminds me, I've made you a revision checklist." Harry smiled inwardly. Hermione hurried over to the dresser in the corner and pulled out a rolled up timetable.

"Thanks, Mione." He stood up, stretching his back, and looked at the clock, before wrapping his arms around her in a hug. "I better be off, then. See you tomorrow?"

Hermione returned the hug. "See you" she said, then, just as he pulled away, she leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you, Harry."

Harry paused. "What for?"

Hermione looked over her shoulder at him as she carried their wine glasses to the kitchen. "For being you."

She left the room, and Harry apparated to his flat with a crack, still feeling her lips in his cheek.

* * *

Sunday dinner at the Burrow was always a lively affair. Harry never knew quite how many people would turn up, and once a month Mrs Weasley insisted that all her children (Harry and Hermione included) come home if they were at all able to – acceptable excuses were pretty much limited to work, and only then actual emergency work, like Hermione's. There wouldn't be a Howler heading his way or anything like that, but the sad disappointment in Molly's voice on the occasions he had declined always made him feel worse than any Howler could, especially as he knew it was out of a mother's love. He knew Molly would never fully recover from the loss of one of her sons – George was the only one who felt the loss more than Molly – and that being able to have her children all together, even just for one afternoon, made her feel happy.

Apparating to the edge of the wards with a crack, Harry strolled up the dirt path towards the lopsided building, a smile automatically forming on his face as he approached the first home he'd known outside of Hogwarts. He could have apparated into the garden – in fact, he could have gone directly into the kitchen if he wanted to, his magical signature having long since been incorporated into the new-style anti-apparition wards – but the Burrow was one of his favourite sights in the world, and he'd be damned if he didn't take a few minutes to savour the feeling of coming home.

As he made it to the open kitchen door, he noticed George standing just to the side of the threshold, apparently having seen Harry's approach.

"Hello Harry. You look happy to be here. Admiring our wonderful architecture?" he said with a small smile, reaching out a hand to pull Harry into a manly hug. Though George was now starting to live his life again, there was always a part of him that seemed lost still, smiles never quite reaching where they should.

"It's always good to be home, George," Harry said simply, returning the hug. "It's good to see you, too. How's Angelina? Is she here today?" George had been seeing Angelina Johnson for some time now. She had been one of the things that helped him through the dark years after the loss of his twin.

"She's well, Harry, but she's with her sister today, the one who's getting married. Something about chickens."

Harry's eyebrows raised. "Chickens?"

"Chickens. Merlin knows what it has to do with weddings, but I told her to let Mum know if they need a hand with it. We've been keeping chickens for years."

Cogs turned in Harry's mind. "Chickens – not hens?"

"Harry, hens _are_ chickens. They're girl chickens." George rolled his eyes. "I think maybe Mum needs to explain a few things to you too…"

Harry opened his mouth to reply, only to be swooped down upon by Molly herself bustling into the kitchen.

"Harry dear!" she exclaimed, pulling him down into a tight hug. "I didn't hear you come in!"

Harry returned the hug. "Hello Mum," he said softly. Though she may not have been his real mother, she was the closest he had, especially as the years had gone on, and he loved her for it. This greeting was the way he felt he could show how much he appreciated her.

"Welcome home, son" she said, just as softly, then pulled back and patted him on the cheek. "You must not be eating enough, Harry. You still always look like you need a good meal inside you. Now, off you go into the sitting room, almost everyone is here. No Teddy today?"

"He's visiting with some of Ted's family this weekend, I think."

"That's a shame. I do love to see him. Victoire will be disappointed, too! Right, in you go. You too, Georgie…" she said, chivvying them through the kitchen.

As he entered the cosy sitting room, a cacophony of voices greeted him. Arthur had little Victoire on his lap, holding a muggle rubber duck and seemingly telling Victoire about it. She was looking at him with rapt attention, occasionally looking at the duck and nodding.

Bill and Fleur sat nearby, both with a hand resting on Fleur's enormous baby bump. Percy was stood by the window, baby Molly in his arms, while his wife Audrey watched them tiredly from a chair. Charlie – who had returned to Britain after the war, finding that his dragon-handling skills were in demand after a population explosion of Common Welsh Greens – was deep in conversation with Dean, who was gesturing at a piece of paper, apparently demonstrating the off-side rule. Ginny sat next to him, ducking occasionally to avoid some of his wilder gestures and laughing with Hermione, who was perched on the arm of Fleur's sofa. They all turned to the doorway with smiles and waves as he entered.

"Hi Harry!" called Ginny, narrowing her eyes at him. "Cutting it fine, aren't you? It's ten to two"

"Sorry Ginny, I was just finishing something off…"

"Well, you're here now. I'm starving, I hope Mum's nearly done with the food."

"Hang on, it's not like I'm the last to arrive! Ron's not here yet!"

Ginny's face darkened for a moment. " _If_ he decides to turn up."

"Come on. When does Ron ever miss out on a free meal?"

"He hasn't been responding to Mum's floo-calls."

Harry frowned. "Is he all right?"

Ginny gave a humourless chuckle. "Oh, he's all right enough to be entertaining his lady-friends. Poor Mum, though, she's been worrying about him constantly. It's not just rude, it's cruel. We all know she can be a bit…" She paused, trying to think of the right word. "A bit _smothering_ at times, but really, she _has_ seen two wars, and lost family in both. After all she's done for him, he's just treating her like…like…well, he's treating her like that."

"Ron seems to be going through one of his, ah, _wilder_ phases again" Hermione put in, unhappily.

Ginny scowled. "I'll say."

They chatted idly for a while, waiting for Molly to call them through. By five past two, Ginny looked about ready to eat the sofa cushions. Just then, Molly opened the living room door and popped her head round, a slightly sad expression on her face, though she quickly put on a smile as she looked at them all.

"Lunch is ready. Everyone through to the dining room!" The dining room was a relatively recent addition to the Burrow's ground floor, built when it became obvious that the family kitchen just wasn't big enough to hold the whole family any more.

Ginny was up and into the dining room before Fleur had even been helped to her feet.

* * *

A short while later, when everyone had eaten their fill of Molly's delicious roast, they all leaned back in their chairs and began to chat.

"So, Harry, how are you doing with your – what was it? – Despondent's course?" asked Arthur, from the other end of the table.

"My correspondence course?" Harry replied.

"Yes, your muggle school thing."

"Quite well, I think, Arthur. I mean, the sciences are pretty interesting, although I've been struggling a bit with the maths."

"And that's the arithmetic, yes?"

"Er – yes, some of it."

"And do you use an abacus for that?"

"Er – no, I don't think-"

"Oh? Perkins assured me that they were important for muggle arithmetic."

"Actually, Arthur" Hermione interjected, seeing Harry struggling, "muggles use a sort of _electronic_ abacus now, called a calculator."

"Really? Well, I'd love to see one of those!"

"I'll bring one next time," she smiled.

"Harry, dear, Dean was just telling me about his posters selling out! Isn't it wonderful!" exclaimed Molly.

"Yes, he told me yesterday, when I rang Ginny back."

"Oh, did he come to visit you, dear?" Molly asked. Ginny and Dean both shot Harry an alarmed look.

Harry frowned in confusion. "No, he was at their –" Ginny shook her head furiously out of her mother's field of vision, making cutting gestures at her throat. "I mean, yes, he was at _my_ flat, not their…" Ginny shook her head again, pointed at herself frantically. "I mean _Ginny's_ flat, to check I'd got Ginny's message…so, so I called Ginny back then." He tried to arrange his features into an innocent expression.

Molly gave Harry a bemused look. "Hmm. Well, I'm going to fetch the pudding."

Hermione snorted delicately. "Smooth, Harry."

"What? What did I miss?"

"Mum doesn't know Dean's moved in yet!" Ginny hissed. "She's a bit old-fashioned when it comes to these things – she thinks we should be at least engaged first."

"But George lives with Angelina, and they're not engaged!"

"George is a boy. I don't know that Mum approves of it, exactly, but I think she feels that Angelina's mother should be the one to put her foot down there. Besides," Ginny lowered her voice, "I don't know how George would have managed if not for Angelina."

"True enough. Sorry, Ginny." Harry tried to look apologetic.

"Hm." Ginny scowled at him, before turning her attention to Hermione. "So, Hermione, what in Merlin's name have you been up to?"

Hermione looked taken aback. "What do you mean?"

"You've been busy for _weeks!_ Evenings, weekends…I haven't been able to pin you down for a girls' night for ages! You promised me another moving picture disc. It's been the same for months – I see you once, then you disappear."

"Sorry, Ginny. I've just been so busy with work…"

"What, every night? Every weekend?"

"Well…"

"Come on Hermione, no one works that much." Ginny gave Hermione a sly smile. "Is there a man involved?"

"What? No!" Hermione spluttered.

" _Something's_ going on, and I will find out! So you may as well tell me now."

"Nothing's happening! Just work, some research I've been doing for…for another qualification I'm thinking about signing up for." Hermione's cheeks were tinged pink. Harry's heart thudded unevenly – _was_ Hermione seeing someone?

Ginny frowned, then smirked, then quickly put on a petulant expression. "Does this _qualification_ involve Harry?"

Hermione's face grew redder, to Ginny's amusement. "No!"

"So you can make time to see Harry, but not me? Don't think I don't know what you were up to last night!" Ginny glanced knowingly at Harry, who gaped at her.

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. "But – Ginny, no – I mean, we…" She threw a pleading look at Harry.

"Hermione was helping me with my course!" Harry jumped in. Hermione nodded vigorously.

"Funny, you didn't mention coursework yesterday, Harry," said Ginny with a raised eyebrow. She was clearly enjoying their discomfort.

Fortunately, they were spared further interrogation by the arrival of Molly with a spectacular treacle tart.

* * *

After much too much pudding, several cups of tea and lots of conversation, Hermione rose from her seat, claiming tiredness and an early start the next day. Harry got up with her, and after a round of goodbyes, they headed through to the kitchen to apparate home.

"Well, goodnight, Harry," Hermione said, hugging him.

"Night, Hermione," he replied, then as she drew away, he said, "Mione?"

She paused. "Yes?"

"You're _not_ seeing someone, are you?"

"What on earth are you talking about, Harry?"

"Well, just what Ginny was saying, about you being busy all the time…I just wondered…"

Hermione shook her head with a slight smile. "No, Harry. My _other activities_ are what has been keeping me busy." She moved as if to apparate, then stopped. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason," said Harry, feeling more cheerful about her answer than perhaps he should have been. He gave her another squeeze. "Night." He apparated to his flat, and dropped onto the settee with a smile of relief on his face, though he wasn't quite sure why.

He had, however, missed the hopeful look in Hermione's eyes when he'd asked her the question.

And the slightly disappointed one when he'd answered hers.


	4. Chapter 4

The weeks went on, and Hermione's products continued to sell well.

Harry's exams were fast approaching, and most of his time when not seeing Teddy was taken up with study. Hermione had "gone nocturnal", as she liked to call it, as she had been moved onto the night duty rota at St Mungo's and except for an impromptu celebration the day after the birth of Bill and Fleur's second daughter, he saw her only briefly on a few evenings, when she would assist him with revision.

"Don't worry, Harry," she'd assured him when he asked if she wanted him to stay up with her on her nights off, both for company and to help her with the products. "I've plenty to do. A few of my contacts work nights, too, and prefer to meet at night time."

He had felt a little put out that she didn't seem to want his help, but she suggested that he come with her to meet some of her "contacts" after his exams were finished. But in the absence of their visits, he'd spent a lot of time thinking about her, and kept finding his mind drifting to less platonic thoughts, Ginny's and Dean's words from weighing heavy in his mind.

* * *

Harry emerged from the exam centre, feeling as though his brain had been wrung out and like his hand might fall off at any moment. However, he did feel quite a bit lighter at the knowledge that his final exam was over. He planned to continue his studies after his results were issued, but for now he definitely had a "school's out for summer" feeling that he never really got at Hogwarts when summer meant Dursleys.

Blinking in the bright June sunshine, he made his way across the car park to get to the main road, where he would find an alleyway to disapparate home. Hermione would likely be waiting for his phone call about how it went. As he headed through the main gates, he saw a glossy purple motorbike parked up. A rather sexy looking figure clad in fitted leathers was leaning against the bike, removing their helmet as he approached. The biker girl smiled at him, a chestnut brown braid tumbling over her shoulder. He gave a polite smile in return and continued on, while his exam-addled brain struggled to make sense of the image the girl left in his mind. His jaw dropped, and he stopped mid stride when something clicked into place, at the exact moment that a voice called his name.

"Harry?" called Hermione, looking confused, as Harry walked past her then froze, foot suspended comically above the ground. "Are you all right?"

Harry turned back towards her. His mouth flapped open and closed a few times, while he tried to make a coherent sound. His eyes flicked between biker-girl-Hermione and the motorbike.

"Er – Harry?" she tried again, stepping towards him.

"Her – Hermione? You – what – _motorbike?"_ he spluttered, face flushed.

"Yes, it's my motorbike. Are you okay, Harry?" Hermione frowned at him in concern.

"But – but, you don't – I mean –?" Harry struggled to organise his thoughts.

Hermione raised an eyebrow and waited for him to work out what, exactly, he was trying to say.

"You – you ride a _motorbike?_ Seriously? But you won't even _sit_ on a broom without serious persuasion!"

"Harry," Hermione said, in what he recognised as her 'patient' tone. "It's not the travelling at racing speed part of brooms I'm averse to, it's the flying in the air part that bothers me. This _particular_ bikedoesn't leave the ground."

"But-"

"Never mind but. Put these on." She picked up a second helmet and a leather jacket from on top of the bike's seat, and thrust them at him.

"Er – no."

"Yes, Harry. We are going on a little ride, and you need to wear these for safety."

"I can't ride a motorbike!"

" _I'll_ be riding the bike. _You_ will be a passenger."

"No!" he said indignantly.

Hermione put her hands on her hips. "I think, Mr Potter, given that you recently _coerced_ – a less generous person would say tricked and blackmailed – me into a flight on your Firebolt, then pulled your favourite Quidditch stunts, a little ride on my motorbike should not be a problem for you. Unless you would like me to have a little chat with Molly about your behaviour…?" She let the threat hang, while he contemplated.

After a moment, Harry visibly deflated, and took the jacket first. Hermione gave him a wide grin that made him sure he would regret this.

* * *

"Now, how did your final exam go?" Hermione asked, twirling the straw in her Coke. She had a weakness for muggle fizzy drinks, which she put down to never being allowed them as a child due to her dentist parents. Now she could never resist one – through a straw, of course. Just because she wanted to drink them didn't mean she wanted to erode her teeth while doing so. They had pulled up at a muggle restaurant and were having a celebratory end-of-exams lunch.

"Not too badly, I think. There was one question I know I've definitely got wrong, but other than that, I think I understood a lot of it. But I'd like to forget all about it now, please," he said, to cut off the inevitable dissection of the questions he was sure would follow. Harry still felt somewhat shell-shocked from the bike ride. His hair was messier than usual, thanks to the helmet, and that along with the wild eyed look he gave her after he slid off the bike in the car park, had caused Hermione to collapse in giggles.

"Good. I'm glad it went OK. I'll say no more about it, except that you've worked very hard, Harry, and I want you to know that I'm proud of you."

"Steady on, Mione," Harry said, blushing brightly at the praise. "I don't even know if I've passed yet."

"Doesn't change the fact that you've worked hard. It's not really the result I'd be proud of, anyway – although, obviously, I want you to do well, and grades _are_ important, and I will be very pleased if you do well – but what I mean to say is I'm proud of your attitude towards it. Whatever grades you get – and I'm sure they will be passing ones, I really am – I know that you've done your work to the best of your ability. That's why I was always nagging you at school, Harry, and Ron too."

"Eh?"

"I mean, I just wanted you both to apply yourselves, to reach your full potential. You're an intelligent person, Harry. I know I was probably too uptight at school, and I likely drove you both mad, especially around exams…"

Harry snorted.

Hermione gave him a look, but continued as if she hadn't heard him. "…But it's just because I was watching you fail assignments that I knew you were capable of completing."

Harry quirked an eyebrow at her, but he knew she was right. He sighed. "I know. I should have worked harder. It's just, I wasn't allowed to do better than Dudley at primary school. And life was easier all round if I didn't draw attention to myself. I guess it never really clicked at first that they didn't care about my Hogwarts grades. And, well…" he tailed off, looking faintly embarrassed.

Hermione leaned forwards. "Well, what?"

"It's…I never had any friends before Hogwarts, right?" Hermione nodded, she already knew this. She had also been friendless, until Halloween of First Year. "And I used to, I don't know, _daydream_ about having friends, just hanging out with them, playing games like a normal kid. I guess I got carried away with the idea and sort of resented having to reign it in when I'd never got to do it before."

Hermione's expression softened.

"I know you only wanted to help, and looking back, I can see why. I am sorry we didn't appreciate your help at the time, Mione."

Hermione's cheeks turned pink and she shook her head. "Harry, before we became friends, I couldn't have imagined anything more important than doing well at school, learning everything I possibly could. My parents encouraged me from a young age to read, and I guess it went from there. They were always so pleased when I did well at school, I had things to talk about with them, and my fondest memories of primary school are of teachers' praise." Hermione grew redder as she spoke. "I didn't relate to other children well. I found it easier to cope with the petty taunts and feeling excluded by deciding I didn't _want_ to be involved in their silly games. And I remember my parents, always saying how mature I was to their friends, how proud they sounded of me…

"By the time we went to Hogwarts, I suppose I got so used to identifying as the smart one, the teacher's pet, that I felt like I _had_ to be top of the class. I wasn't any good at the _normal kid_ stuff. But, the magical world was entirely new to me, so I devoured as many books as I could like I would with any new subject, so that I could still be recognised as _clever_.

"There was another part to it, though. I just…I wanted to _fit in._ I was so happy, the day I got my letter. There it was, the reason I hadn't made any friends. I was different, but there were others like me. I knew I'd be coming in as an outsider, so I wanted to catch up with everyone else, so I wouldn't get caught out by having grown up muggle. I had nearly the whole year between my birthday and the following September 1st, and for the first time in a long while I found myself daydreaming when I was trying to read stories at bed time, fantasising about my new school, full of people like _me._ I was so disappointed, so… _ashamed_ , when I realised that it wasn't being a witch in a muggle school that made me friendless. It was just being _me._ " Hermione bowed her head.

Concerned, Harry reached for her hand and squeezed it. "Mione…"

Hermione squared her shoulders. "But being friends with you, it gave me a sense of belonging I'd never felt before. You pulled me out of my books, away from my self-imposed separation…taught me that there were people worth breaking the rules for. You taught me there was more to a great person than book and cleverness…" She tailed off.

Harry put his hand under her chin and lifted it so he could see her face, and gave her a small smile. "Friendship and bravery, right? And…and…" he frowned in concentration; he was sure there had been a third thing on that list. "What was the other thing?"

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but suddenly caught sight of the clock behind the bar. She jumped up. "I didn't realise the time! Come on, we're going to be late!"

"Late? Late for what?"

"Don't you remember our arrangement for after your exams?"

Harry was confused for a moment, but quickly remembered what she meant. "I'm meeting your…accomplices?"

Hermione laughed. "Merlin, Harry, you make me sound like a serial killer. But yes, I'm meeting them this afternoon, and I thought you could come with?"

"Lead the way, criminal mastermind."

* * *

Hermione insisted Harry get on the motorbike for a second trip, this time to her flat so she could park it in the garage.

"Where are we going to meet them?" Harry asked her as they climbed the stairs to her flat. "Are they coming here?"

"Oh, no. We're apparating to them. I just want to get out of these leathers first. It's a lot hotter than I thought today, even with a cooling charm!"

Hermione disappeared into her bedroom, unzipping the leathers as she walked, giving Harry a brief glimpse of her shoulder as she shut the door. He could hear her humming a tune he vaguely recognised as she changed. Harry tried, rather unsuccessfully, to keep his imagination under control, as a procession of biker-girl-Hermiones in various states of undress paraded in front of his mind's eye. He put it down to post exam stress, and being ambushed unexpectedly, and forced himself to think of less attractive things. Just then, Hermione emerged dressed in pretty sundress with a fitted top and floaty skirt, and twisting her hair into a messy knot, and Harry's thoughts scattered again. Harry jumped up, desperately trying to force his mind onto something other than Hermione's figure.

She offered Harry her arm. "Shall we?"

He reached to take her arm, and they disapparated with a crack.

Harry looked around at the rolling fields surrounding them. "Where are we?"

"Celeste's farmhouse" Hermione replied, turning him so he was facing a cosy-looking cottage. They walked up the little garden path from the driveway they were on and Hermione knocked on the door. It opened to reveal a skinny, tallish woman with black hair and amber eyes. She had a scar running across her cheek, and several more on what he could see of her shoulders.

"Mimi!" she said, drawing Hermione into a hug, before turning to Harry and sticking her hand out. "And Harry Potter, I believe?"

Harry took her hand and shook it. "Yes, it is. You're Celeste, I take it?"

Celeste smiled and nodded. "Well, don't just stand there like entrance gargoyles, come in, come in…"

Harry looked back at Hermione as he followed Celeste into the house. "Mimi?" he mouthed to her, eyes dancing with amusement. Hermione's answering scowl promised retaliation if he pressed the point, and Harry tried to straighten his face. As Celeste led them into the sitting room, he noticed a tall, blond man rise from an armchair to greet them. Celeste headed to the kitchen for drinks.

"Mimi, so good to see you!" he said, starting towards Hermione, kissed her cheek and hugged her. Harry frowned.

"Hello Mike!" she said. He lifted her up slightly, and she squeaked and thumped his shoulder, then turned to indicate Harry. "This is my friend Harry Potter. He's interested in joining our little company. Harry, this is one of my contacts, Michael Macmillan."

Mike stretched a hand out. "Pleased to meet you, Harry. I know of you, of course!" he said, laughing.

Harry shook his hand, both men gripping hard, and forced a polite smile. "Hi. Macmillan? Not related to Ernie Macmillan, are you?"

Mike laughed again. "I don't think so. Not closely, anyway."

"Harry, Mike is my main connection to the drugs industry" Hermione said.

"Oh. Right." They sat down, Mike in the armchair, and Harry and Hermione on the sofa. Harry draped his arm behind Hermione, trying to keep the annoyance he inexplicably felt at this bloke off his face.

"He's also an expelled Muggle-born."

"He's a – what?" Harry turned to look at Mike. Celeste put a tray of cold drinks on the coffee table.

"I'll let Mimi explain. She helped me to piece it together more coherently. Thinking about it causes me to get confused…possibly a side effect of what has happened." Mike said, nodding to Hermione.

Hermione took a deep breath, before launching into her storytelling mode. "Mike received his Hogwarts letter a few years before we did, but he was expelled at the end of his first year as he just could not do the practical work. Following consultation with Madam Pomfrey and Professor Dumbledore, it was agreed that although Mike had some magic to trigger his acceptance to Hogwarts, his magic was not strong enough to be counted as being a full wizard. If he had been of magical parents, they might have said he was a squib, or close enough – he had some magic, but could not use it effectively.

"So, he was expelled from Hogwarts, and his wand was snapped. As a muggle-born, however, he could not be allowed to have memories of the world that he would no longer be a part of. So before returning him to the Muggle world, both his and his parents' memories were modified, and his magical core was bound to prevent any small magical outbursts occurring, on the off chance his magic flared. He was enrolled in Muggle secondary school a year late, his absence explained by ill health using false records created by the Ministry, which was backed up by their modified memories and the weakened state Mike had been left in after his magic was bound."

Harry stared at Hermione, dumbfounded. He opened his mouth, though he wasn't sure what he wanted to say. Hermione raised a hand to stop him interrupting.

"Just let me finish the whole story first, Harry. In theory, Mike should not have discovered any of this. It's standard practice for any muggle born students who are expelled before their OWLs. However, Mike, it seems, is an unusual case. About a year after his expulsion, Mike began to feel…strange. Like he was fighting against invisible elastic bands, all over his body. He'd been having a tough time at school, having been "held back" a year at school, and he put it down to stress. The feeling built, until he found himself coming round on a bus shelter floor, surrounded by shattered glass and splintered wood that appeared to have exploded inwards from shelter. There was a storm at the time, no witnesses that Mike is aware of, and I believe it was put down to a freak lightning strike.

"If this had happened at his home, the Ministry may have contacted Mike. They may not have. I don't know. As it was, as far as we know the Ministry did not get involved, and although I suppose it's conceivable that they generated the lightning excuse, Mike's memory was not modified.

"Do you remember, when you figured out what I was doing, I explained about how most children's magic has stabilised by age eleven? Well, it seems Mike's magic stabilised late. When his core stabilised, the bonds on his magical core snapped, for want of a better word. Sometimes, in the magical world, parents have their child's core bound before their magic has stabilised, usually for safety if the child is prone to particularly violent or dangerous accidental magic. They will get the bonds dissolved when their child shows the signs that their core is stabilising – the same sensations Mike felt. That way, they can be removed without any potentially dangerous magical discharge or backlash.

"Unable to remember his accidental magic as a child, nor his brief exposure to the magical world, Mike had no idea what had happened. But over the next few years, he had outbursts of uncontrolled magic in times of stress or high emotion. He also had fragments of memories that didn't make sense, ones that contradicted the memories that had been planted when he was expelled. Thinking about them made him confused. He kept it to himself, as much as he could, afraid he would be pronounced mad if he told anyone. He desperately wanted people not to notice the outbursts – and by and large, it seems he was able to hide it, though more memories that he didn't understand kept coming back to him.

"When he went to college, he made friends with a girl from a different area. As it turned out, her father was a squib, who'd been living in the muggle world for all of his adult life. He recognised the signs of undisciplined magic after witnessing his daughter trying to calm Mike down after he'd been in a fight.

"He sat Mike down, and explained that magic was real, and he thought Mike had it, though he couldn't explain why Mike was not at Hogwarts. It seemed to tally with Mike's regained memories, and following the conversation, Mike began to recall bigger chunks of what had happened, and everything married up."

"So where do you fit in with all this?" Harry asked her.

"His friend's dad, David Greengrass, works with Celeste at the lab. He realised she had lycanthropy pretty early on and covers for her when he can. She recognised his name as a magical one, but didn't dare approach him about it until he told her he knew about her "once-a-month problem". They became friends and he is also involved in our medicine company. He asked to meet with me regarding Mike, I did a bit of digging, and also…well, not just me, sort of through LUNES…although he doesn't have the same legal loophole that lycanthropes have, as he was expelled…Mike's been working on his magical education, and I've been helping him.

"We managed to surreptitiously get hold of a wand, although it was expensive. We don't know if there are any others in Mike's position. It's something we intend to look into – covertly, of course – at the Ministry, under a satellite branch of LUNES, but we can't focus on it too much just yet."

Harry was shocked. _I can't believe_ _the risks she's taking to help this bloke. I mean, yeah, I feel for the guy, but still… He's completely taking advantage of her_. "So, you're illegally helping an expelled student to learn magic?"

"Well…yes. Technically."

"Alongside helping build up the legal but against popular opinion LUNES and running a not-technically-illegal but definitely underground medicine company?" _Merlin, Hermione, are you TRYING to get yourself up in front of the Wizengamot? I've GOT to tell her not to do this, right?_

Hermione put her hands on her hips, having watched Harry's face move from shock to slight outrage, and the hair that had escaped her messy bun seemed to flick and crackle around her face. Harry recognised her 'I dare you to contradict me' pose. "Yes."

He ducked his head, as his cheeks flushed. "Oh. Er. Right then. Just so we're, you know, on the same page." _Bloody coward._ "Celeste, how about you, is Hermione helping you with magical studies or anything?" he said, trying to change the subject.

Celeste gave him a sympathetic glance. "No, Harry. I was bitten after my sixth year so although they wouldn't allow me back for seventh year, I already had my OWLs by then. I have no need for NEWTs as I'm pursuing my studies in the muggle world. As I've got my OWLs, I'm allowed to use magic."

"Oh. Of course. Hermione did mention it. You want to be a – a – genetics-person?"

"A geneticist, yes."

"So what did you think, when Hermione came to you about the whole medicine-potions thing?"

"Well. To be honest, the thought had crossed my mind before, that the magicals should start trying the muggle ways. I mean, I've been working in the labs for a while now, and it's obvious these things work where magic can't. But I'd never thought about actually getting the stuff out there. I agree with what she's been doing completely, and I'd have helped her with it anyway – not just because I'm eternally indebted to her for everything she's done for me, and for my fellow lycanthropes. Even before LUNES came to fruition, she spent her own time and money making as much Wolfsbane as she could, for people that couldn't afford to pay her for it…She's a godsend. I can honestly say without her, I'd probably still be begging for potwashing jobs and being sacked every month for something I can't control."

By this point, Hermione was scarlet. "Celeste, I didn't do that much to help…LUNES is from _your_ hard work, not mine."

"Mimi, without you, LUNES would never have got off the ground."

Harry was surprised Hermione didn't spontaneously combust, based on the colour of her face.

* * *

They spent the remainder of the afternoon, right into the evening, discussing the setup of the medicine-potions business. How, using Celeste's and David Greengrass' acquaintances, they identified people within the muggle world with knowledge of the magical, but who could be trusted not to run to the Ministry or the Prophet. How the factories making the products reported to Michael and David, who reported to Celeste, keeping Hermione removed from the day to day processes as she was so well-known in Wizarding Britain. How Hermione always Apparated to Celeste's from her flat, and went on from there to avoid being spotted and followed. Celeste brought some food out as it grew later.

When Hermione mentioned again about St Mungo's refusal to trial these medicines in the muggle guise, Harry thought of a question. "Hermione…I know you must have thought of this before you started…but how did you make sure it was safe?"

"Do you mean, did I do something like drug trials?"

"Yes."

"Well, I knew the drugs themselves were safe for human consumption. It's not like I was making new ones…but in regards to working specifically on magicals?" Harry nodded. "Anecdotal evidence. I spoke to a lot of muggle-borns, subtly of course, seeing if they'd used it. And of course, our contact network. Some are magical, or have magical children. They've all used non-magical medicine before. It's not _strictly_ how it should be done, but physiologically there's no real difference between magical and non-magical people, so…"

Harry nodded in understanding. Celeste got up and stretched, yawning hugely. "Well, I don't know about you guys, but it's getting late and I'm tired…shall we call it a night?"

After various goodbyes, handshakes (for Harry) and hugs (for Hermione), they headed out into the night. Mike gave Hermione a last peck on the cheek before heading to his car, parked in the lane, Harry glaring at the back of his head. Hermione waved Mike off as he drove away.

"So, _Mimi,_ huh?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Well, _Mimi…_ goodnight. Just so you know…what you said earlier, about being proud of me…I'm proud of you too. I mean, I think you're taking on a huge amount of risk here especially with _Mike_ , but…I'm proud of you, all the same. You're just so…so… _good,_ so fair, so selfless and brave with all of this… and I really… I…" _Say it Potter, go on. Say the L word._ "am so proud of you for that."

And with that, he quickly hugged her, dropped a kiss on her head and apparated away to his flat, where he threw himself down on his bed. _Bloody coward._

Once again, he left behind a thoroughly confused, and slightly disappointed Hermione.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's note: Thank you for reading, following and reviewing.

In response to a reviewer, and just to clarify if anyone else was thinking Hermione had taken a lot on – yes, she has, but Hermione does have previous form for biting off more than she can chew (in PoA especially). Harry wasn't brave enough to bring it up (yet!), though he wants to. Timing-wise, Harry has only just found out about it, but Hermione has been doing these things over a few years, not all at once – Celeste approached her just after they left Hogwarts (about 5 years ago now) for help with LUNES, then introduced her to Mike maybe a year or so later. The medicine/potion thing is the most recent part of it, sales having started over the last year.

Also, Harry sees Teddy regularly at his own request, because he has the free time and he wants to be close to Remus and Tonks' son as his godfather – Andromeda is Teddy's parental guardian.

I apologise in advance for butchering the French language (with internet translations) and Fleur's accent in the chapter – I don't speak French.

* * *

Sunday rolled around quickly, and with it came another big Weasley family lunch. Harry arrived at the Burrow before one o'clock with Teddy swinging off one arm excitedly. Molly saw them through the kitchen window and smiled widely, before opening the door.

"Nana Molly!" Teddy shouted, his hair turning flaming red as he let go of Harry to jump into Molly's open arms.

"Teddy! I'm so happy to see you! How are you, my dear?" Molly said, hugging him tightly.

"I'm fine, Nana Molly. Guess what?"

"What?"

"Grandma is taking me to France!" Teddy puffed out his chest.

"To France?" said Molly. "On holiday?"

"Yep. We're going to see some relatives. I've to learn to say some French like Aunty Fleur and Victoire!"

"Oh, how wonderful, dear. I'll tell you what, why don't you go and ask Victoire if she can tell you some French words now? They're out in the back garden. Go on through the dining room" said Molly, nudging him through to the sitting room and watching him run through to the dining room and the doors that opened out to the garden. She then turned to hug Harry tightly. "Hello son. You're early! I didn't expect to see you until at least half past one"

"Well, Teddy was bouncing off the walls. He wanted to tell you his news. Plus, I've finished my exams now, so I haven't had any revision to do or anything…" He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a blush creeping up to his face. "It's not too much trouble, is it? We can go for a walk or something-"

"Nonsense, Harry dear, I didn't mean it like that at all," Molly replied, noticing his discomfort. "It's a pleasant surprise. I'll get some time to chat with you before I need to be finishing off the cooking. I just came in to check on the meat and get some lemonade. Isn't the weather lovely! I expect you're glad your exams are finished in time to enjoy it." She got a jug from the cupboard and filled it with homemade lemonade from a large bottle on the table.

"Here, Molly, let me help," Harry said, smiling. He picked up a tray of glasses and followed Molly out to the back garden, where Arthur, Bill and Fleur were sat in the shade of the apple tree, with baby Dominique lying in a basket at their feet, and Teddy and Victoire sat at a little table strewn with parchment and pencils.

"Hi everyone," he said, setting the tray down on a small table that Arthur transfigured from a nearby stick.

"Ah, bonjour 'Arry!" said Fleur, as the men nodded in greeting. "Are you well?"

"Fine, thanks, Fleur. How about you? Settling into life with the newest Weasley?" he indicated the sleeping infant in the basket.

"Already I cannot imagine life wizout 'er, zough we are more zhan a leetle tired, of course!" she laughed. "Vicci iz adjusting well, we zhink." She nodded towards the little blonde, happily chattering with Teddy.

"At the moment, anyway" agreed Bill. "The first few weeks were pretty tough, but a one way silencing charm on her bedroom door has done wonders. New sibling jealousy on top of tiredness was _not_ a good combination!"

Harry nodded, although he doubted he really understood.

"So I hear Teddy's going to France, then?" said Arthur, handing Harry a glass of lemonade.

"Yeah. Andromeda told me yesterday when I picked Teddy up. Although she had mentioned she was hoping to go soon. Apparently some distant Black relations, ones who sought her out after she was disowned when she accepted Ted's proposal. They've been in touch ever since, but she hasn't seen them in person since Teddy was a baby, just after the War."

"When are they off?"

"Three weeks. I think there's a wedding or something happening, so they wanted her to come over for that. They'll be staying with relations for a bit, then doing a bit of travelling round France and sightseeing once the summer holiday rush is over."

"So he'll be away for quite some time, then?" asked Molly, looking surprised.

"Yeah. Depending on how it goes, it could be October before they're back. Mid-September at the very earliest." Harry frowned over at Teddy. He hadn't gone that long without seeing him, ever. "It'll be weird, not seeing him" he added.

Molly put an arm around him. "Oh, Harry dear. Perhaps you could meet with them in France, when they go sightseeing? A little holiday for yourself?"

"Huh. Maybe. I didn't think of that" Harry replied.

"Well, think about it at least, dear."

"I will."

Molly leaned back in her chair, smiling at him, and picked up a glass of lemonade.

"So this is wh– argh!" George yelled. He had sauntered up behind his mother, unnoticed until he started talking, at which point Molly jumped practically a foot in the air, drenching George with lemonade. "Well, this is a fine way to welcome your favourite one-eared son!" he spluttered indignantly, wiping his face with his sleeve.

Molly leapt up, flustered, and immediately began to fuss over him, pulling her wand out of her apron pocket to dry him. "Oh, George dear, I'm sorry, I didn't hear you arrive." The other adults in the garden, including Angelina who had arrived with him, though thankfully a few steps behind, roared with laughter.

"That," said George, as a droplet of lemonade dripped from his hair to his nose, "was obvious."

* * *

As it approached half past one, the rest of the family began to trickle in. Hermione arrived at twenty-five past, stating she was on her last rest day after the night rota before going back to day shifts on Monday. Teddy raced over as soon as she stepped into the garden, trailed by Victoire.

"Aunty Miney!" he yelled, hair changing from the straight blond he'd had while playing with Victoire to chestnut brown curls as he jumped into Hermione's arms.

"Teddy!" said Hermione, hugging him, then setting him down to hug Victoire.

"Guess what, Aunty Miney!"

"Hmm…You're the new driver of the Knight bus?"

"Nope!" said Teddy.

"Well then…you've broken the world record for number of chocolate frogs eaten in one go?"

"No!" he laughed.

"Oh, I know. You're secretly a niffler in disguise and you're moving back to your den?"

"Aunty Miney! No!"

"I give up then. What?"

"Grandma's taking me to France! For the whole of summer! Victoire's teaching me French words today."

Victoire smiled and nodded. "Oui, I am"

"Wow! What have you learned so far?"

"Ummm…Oui, that means yes. And apple is pomme…and I can say Jam-apple Teddy!"

"Non, Teddy, c'est _je m'appelle_ " said Victoire, shaking her head.

"That's what I said, jam-apple Teddy."

"Très bien, Teddy!" interrupted Hermione, as Victoire gave him a rather exasperated look. "Victoire, vous êtes un très bon professeur!" Victoire beamed.

"What did she say?" Teddy asked Victoire.

"Aunty Miney says I am a very good teacher!" Victoire replied, preening. They scampered off to their table again, leaving Harry to fill Hermione in on Teddy's travel plans.

Ginny and Dean slipped into the garden looking a bit shamefaced at ten to two. Judging by the somewhat disapproving greeting Molly gave them as she headed to the kitchen to finish off the cooking, Harry wondered if she had been made aware of their living arrangements, and wasn't happy about it. This was confirmed when Ginny made her way over to him where he was sat next to Hermione, who was cooing over Dominique.

"Urgh. Save me from Mum's wrath today, will you Harry?" she groused.

"How do you propose I do that? And I'm fine, by the way, thanks for asking."

"Sorry. Hi. And I don't know, surely you've been up to some kind of mischief."

Hermione looked up. "Well, actually, he tri-mmph!" Harry put his hand over her mouth. Hermione glowered at him.

"I didn't do anything I've not paid the price for now!" he insisted quickly, giving a cough that sounded distinctly like "motorbike" in response to Hermione's look. Ginny looked between the two of them, eyebrow raised, before realising an explanation was not forthcoming.

"What have _you_ done to earn her wrath, anyway?" asked Hermione quickly.

"She found out that Dean's moved in."

"Oh no!"

"Oh yes. Rather spectacularly, too. She Flooed over unannounced yesterday morning – I don't actually know why, she never got round to telling me after the live-action Howler. I was in the kitchen in my – er – nightclothes, full on bed-head and everything, obviously just got up. She came into the room just as Dean was coming out of the bedroom."

"Couldn't you have just said he was fixing a shelf or something? Normally you're so good at spinning a story!"

Ginny looked at Hermione exasperatedly. "Oh, believe me, if I could have come up with something plausible that she would have preferred to hear, I would have."

"Well, why couldn't you?"

"Dean was in just his boxers, in much the same state as me."

"Oh. OH!" Hermione looked stunned for a minute, then creased up with laughter. Harry fought to keep a straight face, to no avail. Ginny glared at both of them. Dean, they noticed, was talking to Angelina and seemingly trying to avoid the gazes of all assembled Weasley males.

"So, I thought letting her know we were living together was probably a less embarrassing solution all round."

Harry and Hermione eventually got their laughter under control. "Oh Gin," said Hermione, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "At least it's all out in the open now. Molly'll come round."

"When he marries you" snorted Harry. Ginny practically growled at him. Molly's shout to announce lunch was ready saved him from retribution.

* * *

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly. Hermione had made good on her promise to Arthur and brought a calculator with her for him to have, and spent much of the day showing him how it was used and explaining the solar battery in it. Arthur was very pleased with his new toy, and expressed his amazement that the muggles had come up with such a sophisticated machine. He was absolutely astounded to discover that it was by no means the most high-tech calculator available, and though he didn't understand a word of Hermione's description of the uses of a scientific calculator, he couldn't wait for her to bring one. She even brought a simple mathematics workbook with her for Arthur to use with the calculator. He was thrilled.

Molly, when not serving food or playing with the little ones, spent much of the afternoon dropping very heavy hints to Ginny and Dean regarding her views on cohabitation and marriage. This ordeal seemed to lessen the pointed looks from the other Weasleys, who apparently felt this was punishment enough.

Harry left with a half asleep Teddy balanced on his hip, having arranged to spend Friday evening with Ginny and Dean at Hermione's flat for a movie and a takeaway.

Once again, Ron did not show up.

* * *

After a largely uneventful week, during which Harry spent a lot of time with Teddy, he was looking forward to going to Hermione's flat for movie night. At six, he apparated to the clear spot in Hermione's living room with a crack.

"Mione?"

Hermione popped her head through the kitchen door. "Hi Harry! I'm just getting out the menus…"

"Ginny and Dean here yet?"

"No, but she's a Weasley awaiting food, so I'd move if I were you!" she laughed.

Sure enough, Harry had barely took two steps towards the sofa when a double crack sounded and Ginny and Dean appeared in the corner.

"Hi guys. Right, what are we eating?" said Ginny, rubbing her hands together.

"Everyone OK with pizza?" asked Hermione, flicking through the collection of menus in her hand as she came in to the room to hug them all. "I haven't had pizza for a while, and it's the fastest delivery time."

"Sounds good to me," said Dean. Harry and Ginny nodded their agreement.

"Well, let's choose what to get, and I'll get the film ready to go."

"What are we watching?" asked Harry, after they had made their choices and ordered enough food to feed a small army. He knew Hermione had been showing Ginny everything from Disney classics to James Bond. "Nothing too girly, right?"

"Yeah, we don't want a chick-flick," said Dean, expanding Hermione's armchair so he and Ginny could fit on it comfortably.

"It's not a chick-flick! I've seen this before, but I doubt you boys will have."

Harry eyed her suspiciously. "What is it?"

"Titanic."

Dean looked at her, aghast. " _Titanic?"_

"What's Titanic?" interjected Ginny.

"It's an epic love story, set aboard the RMS Titanic. It was a huge, opulent cruise liner that sank in 1912. Oh Ginny, you'll love it."

"Oh, I love romances!" she gushed. "Now, where's the wine? Dean's the designated apparater tonight!"

The boys groaned simultaneously.

* * *

Several hours later, in the darkened room, surrounded by mostly empty pizza boxes, both girls sobbed as Rose promised to never let go. Dean had one arm wrapped around Ginny on the expanded armchair, and was scrubbing surreptitiously at his eyes with the other hand. Harry was definitely not crying, but thought he must have something in his eye.

Although, in truth, his mind was only half on the film. The other half of his brain was very aware of his proximity to Hermione, curled up under his arm on the sofa. He had put his arm on the sofa behind her, and at a particularly tense moment when Hermione buried her face against his chest, he put his arm around her shoulders, and left it there. Hermione did not pull away. He was pretty sure he could feel the heat of Hermione's body in every inch of the places their bodies met, and he felt very aware of his heart, which seemed to be beating its way out of his chest. He lightly traced small patterns on her shoulder with his finger.

After the credits had rolled, Ginny sniffled one last time and pushed herself upright next to Dean, setting her empty wine glass on the table. "Oh, Hermione, that was so good, but so sad! If only they had used an extra-sensory charm…they could have avoided the iceberg! Did it honestly really happen?"

Dean shook his head. "Gin, they're all muggles, remember, they couldn't have used a charm."

Hermione gave Ginny a watery smile from Harry's chest. "It _did_ happen, in that the ship itself sank on its maiden voyage, there were not enough life boats and a large number of those on board died, though Rose and Jack and their story are fictional. Some of the characters – Thomas Andrews, Captain Smith, Bruce Ismay, several of the officers and some of the first class passengers – _were_ real people, but the people in the film are actors, playing the role of a real person. It's not necessarily exactly what happened on that night, though."

Ginny sighed. "It's just so sad, to think all those people just…died. All in one go."

Hermione nodded. It likely seemed an even larger number to Ginny, as someone who grew up in a community as small as the magical world.

"Well, we better get going. I've got an extra practice tomorrow. Afternoon, thank Merlin," said Ginny, getting unsteadily to her feet. Dean flicked on the light so Ginny could see her bag. She looked around at the discarded boxes and glasses. "Do you want help cleaning up?"

"No, don't worry. It'll only take a minute." She made as if to move, but Ginny raised a hand.

"No, don't get up on our account. Goodnight!" said Ginny, ruffling both of their hair. They couldn't see her grin at their position, before taking Dean's proffered arm. Hopefully, she thought, the little drop of inhibition-loosener she'd added to Harry's and Hermione's drinks would yield results tonight.

"Goodnight Ginny, goodnight Dean." Hermione said, leaning back down against Harry.

"Night both" said Harry. Ginny and Dean disapparated with a crack.

Hermione yawned. "I'm so cosy. Can I just stay here for the rest of my life?" she sighed, snuggling deeper into his jumper.

Harry's heart missed a beat. "Uh – of course, Mione."

Hermione giggled slightly and smiled up at him, cheeks a little flushed, he guessed, from the wine she'd drunk. They stayed as they were for a little while longer, until Hermione groaned. "I suppose I better get up to sort this mess out, and so I can let you go home to bed. If you're safe to apparate home, that is?" she said questioningly, eyeing the collection of beer bottles by Harry's feet.

"I'm fine." Harry said automatically. _You idiot!_ The voice in his head shouted at him. _You could have stayed here! She still hasn't moved, maybe she wants this too!_

Hermione yawned again, this time arching her back unconsciously to stretch it, causing her to body to press harder against Harry's. This wouldn't have been a problem, except that combined with the beer, and the images his treacherous mind was coming up with imagining that he was staying, it was causing Harry's body to react in entirely non-platonic ways. He jumped up so quickly from the sofa that Hermione practically fell off it. She looked up at him, utterly confused. He felt his cheeks reddening.

"Er – bathroom" he said, bolting down the hall.

Leaning against the sink, he splashed some cold water on his face then stared at himself in the mirror. _Come on! Get it together!_ he thought, willing himself to calm down. _You're a grown adult, for Merlin's sake, not a hormonal teenager!_

There was a quiet tap at the door. "Harry?" came Hermione's worried voice. "What's wrong? Are you ill?"

Harry flushed the toilet then opened the door to find himself face to face with Hermione. "I'm fine, Mione, just – er – full bladder. All OK now."

Hermione eyed him uncertainly. "Are you sure you're OK? I think you might have had too much to drink…"

"Mione, I haven't, I'm fine, really." He walked quickly to the living room and started gathering glasses to take to the kitchen. Hermione took out her wand and banished the pizza boxes to her recycling bin one by one. She then unexpanded her armchair, and had just finished Scourgifying the furniture and carpet of crumbs when Harry returned to the room carrying two mugs of tea.

"It's decaf" he said, before Hermione could ask. He placed them on the waiting coasters on the coffee table.

She smiled at him. "You know me so well!"

"Of course I do, Mione. You're my best friend." Feeling bold, he sat back on the sofa and put his arm out for her to resume their previous position. For one heart-stopping moment, she didn't move, but then she tucked herself back under his arm. They stayed that way in companionable silence for a few minutes.

"Mione?"

"Yes, Harry?"

Looking down at her, he felt himself moving his head down, like a magnet was pulling his lips towards hers. "Do you want to maybe go somewhere with me tomorrow?" The words were out before he could stop them. Merlin, maybe he _had_ had too much to drink.

Hermione sat up to look at him, with an odd expression on her face. "You mean – er – do you mean –"

"I mean maybe take Teddy for ice cream with me, maybe?" Harry jumped in quickly. What had gotten into him? Did he actually just try to ask Hermione out? _Some Gryffindor you are, bloody coward again._ The little voice was back. _You could have blamed it on the beer if she said no. Didn't the Sorting Hat want you in Slytherin? Now we'll never know her answer._

Hermione frowned. "I thought Teddy was with Ted's family this weekend, to see them before he goes to France?"

"Oh. Er. Yes, you're right." Harry thought for a moment. "Well, maybe, maybe we could, erm get some lunch?"

"Actually," Hermione looked a little embarrassed, and perhaps a little disappointed. "I can't. I'm – er – I'm meeting Mike tomorrow."

"Mike?" Harry felt a dull flush rising up towards his face.

"He wants me to go through a couple of charms with him – "

"Mione, I'm concerned about you doing all this for this guy. I don't think it's a good idea, you've taken on way too much with this and the potions thing, and I think he needs to stop taking advantage."

"Harry…" Hermione said in a warning tone. "I'm showing him some charms. That's all."

Harry felt a flash of jealousy and red-hot anger at this bloke, seeing _his_ Mione, using _his_ Mione for this, risking _his_ Mione's job and standing. "Oh, I'm sure he just wants to see your _charms_ , Hermione," he snapped, folding his arms across his chest.

Hermione looked at him, shocked at his sudden change in demeanour. "What on earth do you mean?"

"I mean, why the hell are you letting this guy use you like this? You helping him is illegal! He's got his far without magic, why does he need to learn it now? It's not your fault Dumbledore kicked him out of Hogwarts. As if you don't have enough on your plate, you're breaking the law for a near stranger. Do you have a death wish or something?"

Hermione's expression changed to one of anger. "He is not using me!" she shouted.

"Looks like it from here. Why are you helping him? Are you _seeing_ him? He's taking advantage of you, and you're letting him!"

"The reason Mike needs to learn magic, Harry, is that having undisciplined magic was damaging him! And I offered to help him learn because _I_ wanted to, after Celeste introduced me to him. Added to which, he might be a stranger to you, but I've known him for what, nearly four years now? We're _friends_! _"_

"A real friend wouldn't use you like that. Wouldn't get you involved in something that could get you into so much trouble. You're seeing him, aren't you?"

"Wouldn't let me involve myself? What, like I didn't go on the run with you during the war?" she spat.

Harry was floored, his inner voice was, for once, speechless at what he had done. "That's – that was different. I told you not – you insisted – the war – and anyway, I _needed you!"_

Had he been thinking rationally, Harry would have realised just how upset Hermione was, when her next words were not shouted, but spoken in quiet fury. "No Harry. I'm not seeing him. Not that way. But if I was, why shouldn't I? Why should it bother you, Harry? Don't I deserve a bit of happiness, a bit of, of, _love?_ That was the last thing, Harry. Friendship, bravery and _love_. The thing I wanted to say, but couldn't. Even then, I didn't think I'd get that. Who would want me, the bucktoothed boring bookworm? Am I still that to you, Harry? Is that why you think he's using me?"

"No, no, Hermione no I didn't mean it like that, of course you deserve... I don't know what came over me, Hermione, please…" he trailed off, at a loss for what to say.

Hermione slowly exhaled through her nose. "I think we've both had too much to drink, Harry. I know I feel a little…off-kilter. We've both said things we didn't mean to. I know that I made the choice to do everything we've done together, just as I've made the choice to do what I'm doing now. You've made your opinion of my helping Mike clear. I think I would like you to go home so I can go to bed. I'll see you around, Harry." Hermione got up from the sofa and walked towards her room.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry" said Harry.

She paused and turned back to him. "I'm sorry too, Harry. I sincerely hope we don't remember this in the morning." She went into her room and shut the door.

* * *

It had been several days since his argument with Hermione, and Harry found himself moping around his flat a lot more than he liked to admit.

Bored, he decide to check his email for the latest Roaming Snorkack – Luna had usually sent one out by this point in the month. Harry logged in, deleting the numerous junk messages, then opened Luna's newsletter. He scanned the contents, before seeing something that made his stomach drop.

The final headline read: "Potions sighting in the Muggle world! Is one of the newest Potions Masters on the market playing with both sides of the Magical divide?"


	6. Chapter 6

Author's note: I hope this helps fill out the back story between Hermione and her other friends. As the story is largely from Harry's perspective, there's a lot he didn't know about yet, and he's finding out the information gradually.

I've struggled on with this chapter and run out of writing steam with this at the moment. I hope to be able to get a bit more inspiration in the new year.

Thank you for reading!

Side note: I love Luna.

* * *

Harry jumped to his feet and apparated straight to Hermione's living room, all thoughts about their argument temporarily banished from his mind.

"Mione!" he shouted, as he ran quickly through the flat. "Mione! Where are you?"

He growled in frustration, realising she wasn't home. _Where is she?_ He apparated away, this time to Ginny's front door, where there was no answer. He thumped the door one last time in annoyance. Was she at work? He couldn't exactly go charging into St Mungo's…he could leave a message, asking her to call him, but…but he wasn't sure that she'd return it, given the nature of their last conversation. _Surely there was someone else he could try? But who could he trust?_ Hermione hadn't told any of their friends about the potions…Realisation dawned. No, she hadn't told any of _their_ friends, but she _did_ have her own friends involved. He disapparated once more.

* * *

He popped into being in a country lane he'd been to only once before, stumbling slightly. He approached the cottage there and knocked hard on the door. After a few minutes passed with no response, Harry knocked again, this time calling out, "Celeste! Celeste, are you there?"

After another minute of silence, Harry gave a shout of frustration and turned to stomp off down the path, when the door opened a crack and Celeste's voice filtered through. "Harry? Is that you?"

He immediately returned to the door, where he could just about make out a narrowed amber eye looking through the gap. "Yes, it's Harry. Is Hermione there? I need to speak to her. It's important."

"She's not here." Celeste said coolly.

"Do you know where she is? Can I come in?"

"Why?" she said suspiciously.

"I think this is something you might want to hear, too."

Celeste opened the door a little wider, and looked him up and down. He got the impression she was not happy with him. She frowned at him, before sighing and making her decision. "I suppose so. If it's important enough for you to wake me up mid-afternoon when I work nights." She opened the door fully and turned to walk back down the hall.

Harry flushed. "Oh – I'm sorry. I forgot you worked nights. Did I – I mean, I'm sorry I woke you."

Celeste waved a hand over her shoulder, as she went into the kitchen to put the kettle on to boil. "It's done now. Coffee? Tea?" She eyed the way he was anxiously bouncing, and added, "I have decaf, if you want."

"Erm, I don't really have time…"

Celeste turned to him with a raised eyebrow, her pose eerily reminiscent of Professor McGonagall. "Look, Harry Potter, you've got me out of bed with some mysterious important news that I apparently really need to know. And to be honest, I've got a bone to pick with you, anyway. I'm having a coffee, and we're going to sit down and have a little chat." He opened his mouth to say something, but Celeste cut him off. "And don't start telling me you need to go to Hermione. You don't know where she is, and frankly, I'm not sure that she wants to speak with you at the moment. You didn't part on the best of terms, I believe?" Harry nodded dumbly. "It's irrelevant for the time being, anyway, because _I_ do know where she is – she's at work today. She doesn't finish for a few hours yet, and she won't thank you if you just go bursting into St Mungo's. So do you want tea or coffee?"

* * *

Ten minutes later, Harry was fidgeting on Celeste's sofa, as Celeste brought two mugs in and put them on the coffee table.

"Right. So, what's this oh-so-important information you need to pass on?" said Celeste, grumpily.

"Someone's made the connection between the potions and the muggle medicines!" Harry burst out.

Celeste's jaw dropped, and she paled. "What? No! How?"

"There's been an article"

"An article? Where? Not the Prophet?"

"In the Roaming Snorkack – it says there's been a sighting of potions in the muggle world."

She frowned. "Isn't that Luna's email letter?"

Harry nodded tersely. Celeste visibly relaxed.

"Harry, no one reads that. She only sends it to you and Mimi, doesn't she?"

"No! She sends it to others…Dennis Creevey…erm…"

"Was it a full on article?"

"No, just a sentence. The main article will be in the next edition of the Quibbler."

Celeste shook her head. "Well, maybe you and Mimi need to go and see her? You trust her, right? I'm sure you can convince her not to run it." Harry's mouth flapped open, unsure what to say. Celeste got up, standing opposite him in front of the fireplace. "Right, now that's sorted-"

"But –" he started. Celeste raised her hand to stop him, before continuing.

"Let me just get this off my chest, Harry," said Celeste sharply. "Mimi came to me the other day, rather upset. She said you'd had a perfectly lovely evening, which rather suddenly became perfectly awful. You'd had words regarding her involvement with Mike Macmillan."

Harry glared at the floor, saying nothing, but nodded slightly.

"I'll say this before I go any further – she was also dreadfully afraid that she'd upset you and you'd want nothing more to do with her. She told me she'd said some awful things to you that she didn't mean, as if she'd been hit by a babbling hex, which she believed to have been down to the wine." Harry's expression softened immediately. "She is also afraid that you might not care for her as much as she does for you."

Celeste's tone softened, and she dropped back into the armchair near the fire. "I won't pretend that I know Mimi better than you do, Harry. Merlin knows, you've been friends for much longer than she and I have, and been through things together that I wouldn't even want to imagine, let alone experience. But you seem _utterly_ oblivious to some things about her. This thing with Mike-"

"He's taking advantage of her!" Harry burst out furiously.

"Yes, Mimi did mention you felt that way. And maybe he is taking advantage of her kindness, when he could have turned her help down, but I don't think you're fully aware of the situation."

"She's helping him study magic _illegally_ ," Harry snapped. "That's all I need to know – he's guilt tripped her into helping him when he should have just let it go."

"He couldn't just _let it go_ , Harry. Having undisciplined magic like that – it was damaging him, mentally _and_ physically. He was confused a lot, with the memory fragments resurfacing. The outbursts made him weak and dizzy, sometimes caused him to black out. Sometimes they were triggered by emotion, but some outbursts were entirely random. He needed to learn to control his magic before it did permanent damage."

Harry's scowl lessened for a minute, then returned full force. "But why did he need to drag Mione into it? He's got nothing to lose here – she's the one with her career, her _life_ , on the line."

Celeste raised an eyebrow, looking bemused. "Firstly, you know as well as I do that Mimi doesn't need dragging into helping people. That's one of the first things I learned about her. Ever since that first day I approached her about LUNES, I've never coerced her into helping what she sees as a just cause – and believe me, I was fully expecting to have to do a bit of arm twisting, even knowing about her Elf Welfare stuff. I hoped I could persuade her to put a good word in for us, get a few pictures in the paper or something to garner some support. Mimi not only did that, she actively pushed to get LUNES going. Came up with the idea of offering muggle education alongside the magical one I wanted to offer, so lycanthropes could choose to escape to the muggle world, where they don't face prejudice. She was the one who suggested to me to proposition St Mungo's about getting Wolfsbane available for everyone, for free. She made the Wolfsbane potion off her own back – I'd never have asked her for it, given the expense of some of the ingredients – and not just for me, but enough so that others could get it from me too. Because she can't stand to see others suffering.

"Secondly, Mimi knew what she was getting into. Much like the misadventures of your youth, I gather." Celeste gave him a rather pointed look. "It seems a bit hypocritical of you, from where I'm standing."

"I will never lose the feelings of guilt I have over what happened to Hermione in the War that _I_ pulled her to the centre of." Harry said quietly. "I didn't want her to get caught up in it – I told her, right from the start, right back when we were getting past Fluffy – she didn't have to! I never wanted her to get hurt! I _love_ her! But without her, we would _never_ have won! I try to console myself with that, and the fact that Hermione always tells me, she _chose_ to follow me, to…to do what is right not what is easy…" His voice had gradually risen and he was now almost shouting, and had got to his feet. He took a shaky breath and sat down, trying to steady himself. He wasn't going to break down in front of Celeste. He hadn't realised, in the heat of the moment, that he'd confessed to Celeste what he'd been unable to tell Hermione herself.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I shouldn't have said that." Celeste sighed, looking contrite. "Forgive me. I tend to get rather tetchy on the approach to the full moon."

Harry took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Why didn't he just go to the Ministry? When he found out what had happened to him, why didn't he ask David Greengrass to take him there?"

"The thing is, Harry, he didn't think he could trust them. His fragmented memories were confusing for him, but the fact that they'd just wiped his memory, just like that…he had no faith that they would help him. He'd heard a little, as well, from David, about the blood politics. David hasn't kept too up to date with current affairs in the magical world – at his last check in before he met Mike, confirmed Death Eaters had been able to buy their way back into polite society and were back in positions of influence. So he was, quite understandably to me at least, rather reluctant."

"What do you mean, understandably to you?"

"Well…I've faced a hell of a lot of prejudice due to my condition, which was, at the time, entirely legal. For the most part, it still is. It's part of the reason I didn't just petition the Ministry directly – it may not be corrupt any more, but it's still prejudiced. Massively so. That was another reason to go to St Mungo's about the Wolfsbane programme. Very few lycanthropes would have signed up if it meant going into the Ministry, and St Mungo's signed a confidentiality agreement to prevent them from passing the names of those registered to the Ministry. And it's not just lycanthropes – squibs still have no legal rights in the magical world, just like muggles. It's likely that if David had gone in, he may well have been stripped of assets, or been Obliviated, too – it's what generally happened to pureblood squibs who are cast out into the muggle world, though the families tend to do that themselves. David is a rarity in that respect. But he certainly had no faith that the Ministry would do the right thing. It's probably a good thing, really, as I believe it was about the time of Voldemort's resurrection when Mike and David met.

"When David approached me about Mike, the outbursts were becoming increasingly violent and unpredictable. He was very concerned for Mike's welfare. When he met with Mimi and me, she did suggest the Ministry. But she couldn't give him a definite answer of what was going to happen to him if he did. Plus, there were plenty of people there who secretly thought she should be taken down a peg or two, especially given her involvement with LUNES, and the House Elf rights – people's opinions on those sort of things don't change overnight. There was concern that just her bringing him in might stir up a scandal.

"But the more pressing matter was getting his magic under control. We already had access to books and course material, obviously, for the LUNES OWL and NEWT courses. Just because we couldn't put him through the exams, didn't mean we couldn't use the material to teach him to control his magic. Obviously, we couldn't involve the official tutors used for LUNES, we didn't want to risk it getting out. So we procured a wand, gave him chapters to read, Occlumency exercises to do, and at least once a week he came here to have some instruction on spellwork."

"So…hang on, so Hermione's not teaching him for his OWLs?"

"No," Celeste frowned. "Of course not. Like Mimi said the other day, he doesn't have the same legal loophole as the LUNES students. Mainly he works through practical spells. It took him a long time to get control over his magic to get it to do the simplest spells; that's why Mimi suggested the Occlumency. I've never studied it, so I handed over to Mimi for that one. I help him sometimes, but I was never a top level student in my Hogwarts days, and my OWLs were some time ago now. I don't use magic all that much, so I'm not a lot of use to him. I came from a magical background, so I never really put much thought into magical theory. Mimi, though…being from a non-magical background, she approached it in a much more scientific way. She really knows what she's talking about, and can explain it much better than I can. Mike's not really bothered about incorporating it into his everyday life – he lives and works in the muggle world – but learning to master spells, forcing his magic to do what he wants, has stopped the outbursts. He's not one hundred percent there yet, but he's working on it.

"He doesn't actually carry his wand with him, you know. It's here. And as he's within the magical world when he's casting here, he's not breaking the statute of secrecy. Neither is Mimi, by assisting him, because he already knew about magic when she met him. The only law we really broke was in acquiring him a wand. I mean, I'm not sure the Ministry would be happy about it, but I think, if it came down to it, there wouldn't be any real repercussions – by helping him control his magic, and by extension the outbursts, really we are _protecting_ the statute of secrecy."

Harry thought about this. It was still a risky thing to do, whatever Celeste felt about it, but perhaps he had jumped the gun a little. "Look, I didn't realise it was damaging him like that. I still don't agree that it was a good thing to do, but…I can see why Hermione is doing it. I still feel Mike should have gone to the Ministry, but I suppose with Fudge and Umbridge around, it may well have ended badly for him." _Ugh, why am I rationalising this? Bloody logic._

"Mike cares for Mimi, Harry. I know you think he's taking advantage of her, but they are friends. Have been for several years now. They may not have been, at the beginning, and I suppose that yes, then, he was taking advantage, but Mimi volunteered her help. Neither Mike nor I tried to guilt her into it – Mimi and I came up with the plan together. She suggested, given that she had more magical qualifications than me, that she should probably do the bulk of the "tutoring" as it were."

Harry shrugged, resignedly. Then he frowned. "What do you mean, he _cares_ for her? Does he – are they –"

"I mean, Mike cares for Hermione, as a person. I'm pretty sure his feelings run a little deeper than that – I've seen the look in his eyes when he sees her – but as far as I am aware, they are friends only. But if she were to reciprocate his feelings," Celeste said, suddenly stern. "I think that Mimi would deserve to find happiness with him. And if you love her, as you claim to do, then – "

"What? I don't…I didn't…"

"Harry, you said it. Earlier. But I didn't need to hear it. I can see it clearly enough. Though I cannot understand why you won't tell her."

"I…I just… it doesn't matter. She doesn't love me."

"What makes you so sure that she doesn't?"

Harry was speechless.

"Well, I've gone on long enough, I think." Celeste smirked briefly at the speechless Harry. "Now, I'm going to make myself some food. I've suggested a plan of action for dealing with the potential expose. Mimi finishes work at 5. Try not to panic her too much when you tell her."

* * *

The time until 5 o'clock passed in something of a blur for Harry, thoughts veering wildly from worry about the article to confusion and – dare he even think it – hope from his conversation with Celeste. He decided to give Hermione half an hour to get home and sort herself out before apparating over.

It was only as he appeared in her living room that it occurred to him, given that firstly, she was not expecting him, and secondly, they hadn't spoken since _that_ night, that perhaps he should have come via the front door. Luckily for Harry, Fate must have been feeling generous, as the crack of his apparition coincided with the smashing of some kind of glass or china from the kitchen, and a shout from Hermione herself, of, " _Ginny!_ How could you!"

"I just thought, you know, with the right encouragement, then maybe-" Ginny's tone was pleading.

"The right encouragement? _The right encouragement?!_ You put Inhibition Loosener in _alcohol_ , Ginny! You can't do that! And now look what's happened!" Hermione screeched.

"But…but we've used it before in Butterbeer" Ginny said uncertainly.

"Butterbeer? Ginny, that stuff's barely even alcoholic! They sell it to _third-years,_ for Merlin's sake! Wine, on the other hand, and muggle beer…Inhibition Loosener in proper alcohol, it makes people paranoid, confused, angry, vicious…that must have been why I…why I said what I said, oh Ginny, he's never going to speak to me again because of this!" Hermione wailed.

"Oh Hermione, it'll be ok," Ginny said soothingly. "Come on, let's go and sit down…I'll make you a cup of tea…" They came through the door from the kitchen, Hermione holding her hands to her face, Ginny steering her with an arm round her shoulders. Ginny came to a sudden halt when she spotted Harry, standing frozen in the corner of the room. She gaped at him, and her stopping caused Hermione to lower her hands.

"Wha-" she started, before she registered Harry's presence. " _Harry?_ "

"Er – hi?" he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione breathed.

"I need to talk to you," said Harry, face serious.

"Harry, I'm sorry, it was all my fault-" Ginny cut in.

"Ginny, it's fine, well, it's not, but I – I heard what you were saying. It's not about that night – Hermione, this is important, it's about…it's about your, you know…"

"Gin, can you give us some privacy?" Hermione asked quietly.

Ginny looked from one to the other, baffled, until she caught Hermione's pleading look, then nodded. "Yes, of course. I'll speak to you tomorrow, Hermione."

"Bye." Ginny apparated away with a crack.

"I'm so sorry Harry, I'm so-" Hermione began.

"Mione, it doesn't matter now"

"But-"

"Look, I heard what Ginny said, we know it wasn't either of our faults. Mione, I need to tell you something – have you read the most recent Roaming Snorkack?"

"No…no I haven't, why?"

He pulled out a piece of folded up paper, and smoothed it out so the bottom half was showing, and passed it to her. "I think Luna's spotted your potions' muggle counterparts."

Hermione went white. "No, no, _no…_ " she whimpered, eyes wide. She swayed suddenly, and Harry lurched forward to grab her. She began to sob. He wrapped his arms around her, and she buried her face against his chest.

"It's OK, it'll be OK, we'll…we'll talk to her, Mione, stop her running the article. She's our friend, we can trust her. Celeste thinks we can contain it."

"You've spoken to Celeste?" she asked, confused in spite of her distress.

"Well, I didn't know where you were…"

"Oh."

"Let's have a cup of tea, calm down a bit, then we can go and see Luna. OK?" He stroked her hair away from her face.

"OK."

* * *

After a reviving cup of tea, they set off for the Rookery. Luna and her father had rebuilt their home following its damage in the war, not wanting to move from the home they had loved. They had, however, added a small workshop away from the main house, where Luna wrote her articles and kept her computer. They decided to try the workshop first, unsure if Mr Lovegood would be home and unwilling to discuss it in front of him.

Luck was on their side, and they found Luna sitting in front of her computer, eating something from a bowl and fiddling with a gold pendant around her neck, door open to let the evening breeze in. Harry made to knock the open door but before he could, Luna, still facing the screen, said in her usual ethereal voice, "Hello, Harry Potter. Hello, Hermione."

"Er…Hi, Luna," Harry replied.

"Hello, Luna," added Hermione.

"I sense you are here for more than a bowl of stewed plimpies."

"Yes…erm…the thing is, Luna," Harry began, Hermione wringing her hands next to him. "I've just read your Roaming Snorkack today, and one of next month's artic-"

"I can't let you read the articles in advance, Harry."

"No, I don't want to read it, I just need you not to run one of them."

Luna blinked at him. "Why?"

"I can't really explain…"

Luna looked like she was lost in thought for a moment. "Ok. Which article?"

They both let out a sigh of relief. "The one about the potions."

"I wouldn't have thought you'd want to be implicit in the covering up of deceiving the non-magical population, Hermione. Or is that why you're so anxious?"

Hermione gaped at Luna. "Implicit in the…what? Hang on, what do you mean, deceiving the _non-magical_ population? Surely you mean the _magical_?"

"Of course not. There's no question of the potions' efficacy. They are overpriced of course, when there are so many more important things to purchase, and it has such limited use…I have no need for it myself, and wrackspurts prefer a more untamed head of hair, of course."

"A more untamed head of – Luna, what are you talking about?" said Hermione, completely baffled now.

"Oh, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to tell you…as long as you promise to read the article when it comes out, too."

"We will, Luna, just tell us."

"You have heard of Potions Master S. Jean Frey-Duerre?"

Harry and Hermione looked at each other blankly. "Who?"

"The manufacturer of the newest range of haircare potions – by all accounts, he wishes to give Sleekeasy's a run for his galleons."

" _Sleekeasy?"_ Hermione squeaked.

"Yes, they are the most popular potions on the haircare market. I'm sure you would know that, Hermione, even though you prefer to accommodate the wrackspurts, like I do," replied Luna, gesturing vaguely to Hermione's curls.

Hermione ignored the last statement, knowing Luna meant no insult, and having more important things to focus on. "Yes, I've heard of Sleekeasy. But this…this Frey-Duerre? What has he done?"

"You've seen the Roaming Snorkack! He's been selling one of his potions in the muggle world!" Luna beamed triumphantly. "I saw it when I was tracking some nargles in the muggle town over the way."

"What's this Jean – what did you say his name was? Free-Durr? – selling, anyway?" asked Harry.

"Jean Frey-Du-" Hermione began, then stopped, leaning back against the wall. "Jean Free-Durr? No…" she breathed. She turned to Luna, eyes wide. "Tell me, the potion he's selling in the non-magical world – it's not Frizz-Ease, is it?"

Luna clapped her hands. "Have you been communicating with the blibbering humdinger, Hermione?" she said, looking pleased. "Yes, I saw his Frizz Easer potion on sale in the muggle apothecary. He cleverly misspelt his name, to cover his tracks, but…"

"John Frieda!" Hermione said, smiling. Then she began to laugh. She slid down the wall, holding her stomach as she rocked with silent giggles. "Oh, Luna," she said eventually, wiping her eyes. "I don't think you need to worry about that. Non magical people have a lot of products like that. And they all have their ingredients listed on them – I can show you, if you like."

"Oh, yes please. I really must find a way to discern when the nargles are playing tricks on me."

Harry helped Hermione to her feet, giving her a broad grin. He turned to Luna and was about to say goodbye, when she spoke again.

"Of course, that doesn't explain why you two were so insistent that I not print the article – if you didn't already know what I just told you. It seemed like it was new information to you both, unless you are practising your acting skills. They must have improved greatly; especially yours, Hermione, as you are not good at acting at all. Or at least," she added in a thoughtful tone, "you weren't." She looked at them both expectantly, twirling with her familiar-looking (to Harry, anyway) necklace once more.

 _Well, she WAS a Ravenclaw, after all,_ thought Harry. He and Hermione exchanged glances, Hermione's face having paled noticeably again, and she was chewing her lower lip.

Luna looked directly at Hermione. "I know that sometimes, Hermione, we don't see eye to eye, but we are friends, and I would never willingly betray your trust. I sense this is your secret to share. You do not have to share it with me, of course, but I hope you have someone you _can_ share it with. It's well-known that bottling up secrets attracts the twitsingers, after all."

They both looked at Luna. As the sunlight caught her necklace, Harry suddenly registered exactly why he recognised it. The pendant was her D.A. galleon. He saw Hermione's body jolt upright next to him in the corner of his eye. His mind flashed to the mural on Luna's old bedroom ceiling…the clear layer of dust, because she had been taken, but had never betrayed them…He turned to Hermione, and could see in her eyes she'd seen what he had, too.

"I think we should tell her, Mione. She may be able to help. If we _had_ needed her to cover this up, we would have implicated her in it."

Hermione took a deep breath. "You're right, Harry. Of course you're right. Luna, we came here this evening because we thought you'd discovered something I'm involved in, and we wanted to stop you publishing that discovery. We both knew that if it came down to it, you would trust us enough not to run it just on our say so. It's only fair that I show you the trust you've always shown in me, in us. You've more than earned it, as a wonderful friend to us both. I'll give you the choice, though – this is serious. Really. You don't have to be involved in this, Luna. We can leave now and you needn't know."

Luna smiled and flipped the D.A. galleon over her shoulder, where it rested on her back, hidden by her hair. "Friends support each other in all of their endeavours, Hermione. Please go on."


End file.
